The episode of the raid on the temple in Bjarmaland is descended from the more historical account in Ólafs saga helga, as is the account in Bósa saga mentioned above. This time, however, the monsters and traps in the temple have grown so egregiously monstrous that they become parodic. (To modern readers, this part may resemble an Indiana Jones movie). In Sturlaugs saga, the “Voyage to the North” has cross-fertilized with learned medieval lore about the monstrous races to be found at the ends of the earth. Ancient Greek authors had compiled accounts of strange peoples at the far edges of the known world: giants, cannibals, pygmies, headless men with faces on their chests, and so on. Drawing on their accounts, Pliny the Elder located a race of dog-headed men in India,[94] known as the Cynocephali. Later authorities adopted, modified, and embellished his accounts, and lists and depictions of the monstrous “Plinian races” are fairly common in medieval maps and learned texts, some of which were translated into Norse.[95] That said, the Norse lists have seemingly duplicated the dog-men; they mention the dog-headed Cenocephali, but also list the Hundings (Hundingjar, “dog-people” or “dog-descendants”) as men whose chins have grown down to their chests, and who are as savage as dogs, but who are not actually said to be dog-headed.[96] The tradition that dog-headed or otherwise doglike people lived on the Baltic coast or in Russia goes back at least to the 7th or 8th century.[97] Adam of Bremen, whose work was well known in Scandinavia, mentions that Cynocephali live on the Baltic coast, adding that they speak by barking.[98] It’s possible that the Hundings were ultimately borrowed from his work;[99] the fact that the Hundings’ chins grow down to their chests (var haka þeira gróin í bringuna) might be a translator’s interpretation of Adam of Bremen’s statement that they “have their heads on their breasts”.
Not all the pieces of Sturlaugs saga are put together skillfully. A few loose plotlines are left dangling (did the giantesses of Austrvík ever resolve their inheritance dispute?). Some episodes seem a little gratuitously macabre, such as the killing of Hornnefja and the death of Frosti and Mjoll. And the ending may leave us somewhat cold; even though it’s fairly common for saga heroes to win an unwilling bride by force of arms, we might have been hoping for Framar to win Ingigerd’s love by his wits and cleverness, not by wholesale slaughter. Perhaps for these reasons, Sturlaugs saga has not been the most highly esteemed saga; it was not translated into English until 1969, and has attracted relatively little critical attention. Yet it was popular enough in Iceland—forty-nine manuscripts have survived, written between about 1400 and 1896, a fairly typical number for a fornaldarsaga.[100]
The saga was probably composed after 1300, but the oldest surviving manuscript is dated to about 1400. This oldest manuscript, AM 335 4to, is so badly faded that Rafn’s edition and most later ones have been based on AM 173 fol., a paper manuscript copied down about 1700. Guðni Jónsson and Bjarni Vilhjálmsson’s text in Fornaldarsögur Norðurlanda is essentially a reprint of Rafn’s text.[101] However, Otto Zitzelberger was able to restore the text of AM 335 from photographs made under ultraviolet light. I have based my translation on AM 173 but have checked and emended my translation using Zitzelberger’s text of AM 335, which is very close to AM 173.[102] AM 335 and AM 173 both belong to the older recension of the saga, known as the A recension; this text is more loosely organized and makes frequent use of folktale and fairy tale motifs, often in triads (three suitors, three giantesses). A separate, later version, the B recension, is more tightly knit, with fewer characters, but stronger and more vivid characterization and somewhat greater literary sophistication. The B recension omits some minor characters and reduces the roles of others.[103] Zitzelberger translated both recensions into English; the only other English translation is Peter Tunstall’s 2008 translation online (http://tinyurl.com/sturlaug).
The Saga of Hrolf the Walker
Göngu-Hrólfr, “Walking-Hrolf,” so huge that no horse can carry him, shares his name and size with Rolf or Rollo, the Viking leader who conquered Normandy in 918. But a name is all they share: the hero of Göngu-Hrólfs saga is quite non-historical.[104] His saga incorporates a familiar range of borrowed motifs. The horse Dulcifal ultimately derives from Alexander’s horse Bucephalus; the swallow bringing the golden hair of the maiden comes from the Tristan legend; the Otherworldly stag-hunt makes another appearance, although not parodied as in Gautreks saga; and plenty of motifs are shared with folktales and other legendary sagas. All of these are put together with undeniable spirit and good humor, nowhere more than in the digressions in which the author appears to step out of the story to defend his work to his audience against claims of exaggeration and unreliability. Yes, he says, the story tells of incredible events, but only fools would assume that their own limited experience is a trustworthy guide to the entire realm of possibility. If wise men of old have recorded such things, it’s not nice to question their authority. And anyway, the story is only meant as simple entertainment! Such apologiae, as they have been called, are found in other sagas, including at the beginning of Bósa saga and at the end of Hrólfs saga Gautrekssonar, but Göngu-Hrólfs saga has no fewer than three: at the beginning, at the end, and in the middle of chapter 25.
Perhaps the most fun aspect of this saga is watching the character of Hrolf grow and develop. Hrolf begins as an inept and unambitious figure, rather similar to the kólbítr (“coal-biter”) of many a saga, or the askeladden (“ash-lad”) of Scandinavian folk tales. Passing through a series of harder and harder challenges and reversals of fate, and growing in strength, capability, and ambition, he ends up marrying a king’s beautiful daughter and ruling a kingdom in his own right. Audiences must have “loved to hate” his opponent Vilhjalm, one of the most devious characters in the sagas, who switches from fawning servility to outrageous self-promotion at the drop of a hat—with just enough genuine cruelty in his makeup that we’re glad to see him hanged in the end.
If the legendary sagas comment on contemporary social issues, it may not be out of line to see Vilhjalm as another satire of the royal officers that exercised authority in the 14th century and onward. Whereas the chieftains of the Icelandic Commonwealth had depended on support “from below”, from their supporters, Iceland’s union with the crown of Norway and later of Denmark marked a radical change in the purpose and function of the aristocracy. All power now came “from above”—from God by way of the king—and would-be nobles no longer needed the support of those who ranked below them. To maintain and advance their status, they needed to cultivate the favor of their superiors, while exploiting and punishing those on whom they once mutually depended.[105] And as was discussed for Hrólfs saga Gautrekssonar, Icelandic aristocrats in the 14th century were keen to consolidate their power by contracting advantageous marriages. Whether or not any specific royal official in Iceland was a model for Vilhjalm, surely there must have been officials who were servile towards their superiors, cruel towards their inferiors, and frantically eager to climb the social ladder by marrying upwards.
That said, the conflict between these two principals is mostly stage-managed by opposing supernatural forces. Without their constant presence, Hrolf and Vilhjalm would probably never have met, nor done anything worth telling a story about. As an undead mound-dweller, King Hreggvid sets the rescue of his daughter into motion by shapeshifting into a bird and dropping one of her hairs into Thorgnyr’s lap. Grim Aegir, as we later find out, appears to Vilhjalm in a dream and gets him to deceive Hrolf and try to win a princess of his own. The elf-woman with the stag, and then King Hreggvid himself, counter Grim Aegir by getting Hrolf into situations where they can give him the magic items that he will need to survive and triumph.[106] Mondul the dwarf first appears as an antagonist, but once Hrolf has beaten him but spared his life, he provides magical help without which King Eirek and Grim Aegir could never be conquered. For much of the saga, Hrolf seems almost passive, accepting what happens to him, but unable or unwilling to control his destiny.
The supernat
ural parts of this saga can be read fairly literally, and were probably received that way by many listeners. Although the apologiae in this saga look like attempts to defuse skepticism of the more outlandish events in the saga, the simple existence of elves, dwarves, and sorcery was not in doubt in medieval Iceland (and has not faded away completely even in modern Iceland). But the supernatural can also be read as an allegory for the unpredictable nature of a person’s fate. Every person sometimes receives strokes of luck, and at other times suffers setbacks, without necessarily doing anything to deserve either one. While these strokes of good and bad luck may not be “supernatural” in the sense of being caused magically by elves and sorcerors, they certainly may seem to appear out of nowhere. The fickleness of fate—the Rota Fortunæ—is of course a common theme in medieval literature in general, but it is also a common theme in old Germanic texts, from Anglo-Saxon poems like The Fortunes of Men, to Beowulf’s reminder that Gæð á wyrd swá hío scel. The question is: Given that good or bad luck can strike at any time, what should a person do about it?
Hrolf provides the right answer: Persevere, and hold to your oaths. All through his forced servitude, he never forgets his mission. After his servitude is over, when it would be easy to kill Vilhjalm, he nonetheless keeps his oath, even though he swore it under duress. Of course, this in turn sets up Vilhjalm’s second betrayal, but without that, Hrolf would never get Mondul’s indispensable help.[107] His generosity to Hrafn and Krak, although it seems odd at the time, will eventually bring him crucial help in his hardest fight. Even after suffering the loss of his feet and the seeming collapse of his mission, he perseveres in doing the right thing as he tries to rescue Bjorn. King Eirek, on the other hand, consciously tries to exploit the supernatural forces to gain lasting wealth and power; in the end, these are insufficient and he fails. Vilhjalm is too greedy and foolish to be anything but a pawn of the forces that are using him, and this also brings about his doom. By the time that Hreggvid and Eirek and Grim Aegir and Mondul are finished with him, however, Hrolf has fully come into manhood: he has earned worldly success, and he is able to leads a victorious army in his own right, no longer because supernatural powers are manipulating him, but because of his personal loyalty to his friend. It’s a lesson that could have come from the Hávamál: You cannot control your fate, but it is foolish to abandon yourself to it. The best you can do is to keep your oaths and promises, to help those who have helped you, and to choose to live as long as there is any chance of living, because “many things may happen that you would think impossible.”
Sixty-nine manuscripts survive of this saga, from the fifteenth century to 1883. I have translated the text published by Guðni Jónsson and Bjarni Vilhjálmsson in Fornaldarsögur Norðurlanda, based on the 15th-century vellum manuscript AM 152 fol. (the same text that contains the oldest surviving example of the younger recension of Gautreks saga). Guðni Jónsson and Bjarni Vilhjálmsson added the preface to the saga as it appears in a different manuscript, AM 589f 4to.
The Saga of Hromund Gripsson
The genealogical link between Göngu-Hrólfs saga and Hrómundar saga Gripssonar is slight. Göngu-Hrólfs saga claims that King Olaf (called Olaf Liðsmannakonungr, “King of Warriors” or “King of Sailors” in other texts) is the son of Göngu-Hrólfr. Hrómundar saga itself makes Olaf the son of Asmund, one of the heroes of Egils saga einhenda ok Ásmundar berserkjabani. In any case, the hero of this saga resembles Bosi in Bósa saga in that he is descended from warriors, but is not a king himself. Persevering through adventures and adversity, he ends up with a royal wife and splendid descendants.
The opening episodes of Hrómundar saga Gripssonar are among the oldest documented saga material. Þorgils saga ok Hafliða, part of the great compilation known as Sturlunga saga, includes a famous description of a wedding feast at Reykjahólar, Iceland, in the year 1119. Guests were entertained with dansleikar, glímur ok sagnaskemmtan—“dancing, wrestling, and saga-entertainment”:
Hrólfr frá Skálmarnesi sagði sögu frá Hröngviði víkíngi ok frá Óláfi Liðsmannakonungi ok haugbroti Þráins berserks ok Hrómundi Gripssyni—ok margar vísur með. En þessari sögu var skemmt Sverri konungi, ok kallaði hann slíkar lygisögur skemmtiligstar. Ok þó kunna menn at telja ættir sínar til Hrómundar Gripssonar. Þessa sögu hafði Hrólfr sjálfr saman setta.
Hrolf of Skalmarnes told a saga about Hrongvid the Viking and about Olaf King of Warriors, and breaking into Thrain’s burial mound, and Hromund Gripsson—and many verses along with it. King Sverrir found this saga amusing, and he called such “lying sagas” the most entertaining.[108] And yet men are able to reckon their ancestry from Hromund Gripsson. Hrolf himself had put this saga together.[109]
This often-discussed passage is one of the earliest pieces of evidence for any sort of saga in Iceland. Even if the wedding account is fictionalized, a story corresponding to at least the first four chapters of the present saga must have been known when Þorgils saga was written in the mid-13th century.[110] Other sources confirm that Hromund Gripsson was considered an ancestor of Icelandic families; according to Landnámabók, he was the great-grandfather of Ingolf Arnarson, the first permanent settler in Iceland.[111] Thus, his identity and family history were part of the stock of common knowledge that saga-composers could draw on. In fact, Ingolf’s sworn brother Leif, also a descendant of Hromund Gripsson, was said to have entered an underground chamber while raiding in Ireland, seized a sword from a man inside it, killed the man, and won much treasure—after which he became known as Hjörleifr, “Sword-Leif.” Motifs in the legendary sagas tend to pass along genealogical lines and be repeated in the lives of successive descendants,[112] and the story of a haugbrot or “gravemound-breaking” may have become attached to more than one ancestor, as Ingolf’s descendants passed it down.
The Hrómundar saga Grípssonar that we have now isn’t the one described in Þorgils saga, which has not survived; the most obvious difference is that the wedding saga had many verses, and the existing saga has none. Instead, the story was retold in a set of rímur (long narrative poems) known as Griplur, probably in the first half of the 1400s. Griplur itself contains several references to characters speaking in verses; in all likelihood, its source contained verses as well, and was probably similar to whatever the Þorgils saga author had in mind.[113] The extant Hrómundar saga is similar enough to Griplur in its vocabulary, phrasing, and even alliteration to leave no doubt that it is a prose paraphrase. It even contains some probable errors caused by misreading a manuscript of the rímur.[114] This is not unusual; almost all fornaldarsögur in the standard corpus were turned into rímur, as were a number of fornaldarsaga-like narratives that now only survive as rímur. In turn, several rímur were retold as prose sagas.[115]
The first four chapters feature the haugbrot, “mound-breaking,” mentioned in Þorgils saga. There are ancient Greek and Chinese variants of this tale type, but it flourished in medieval Iceland: aside from several canonical fornaldarsögur and post-classical romances, Grettis saga Ásmundarsonar and three other “sagas of Icelanders” contain variations on the haugbrot, as does Orkneyinga saga.[116] In a typical “Gravemound Battle” saga episode, the hero digs his way into a hollow burial mound, filled with darkness and a vile stench. He lets himself down into the mound on a rope and discovers fabulous treasures, but must wrestle the undead occupant. In the end, he cuts off the undead man’s head with a sword. In several sagas, although not in Hrómundar saga, the hero discovers that his companions above ground have heard the noise of the fight, decided that he is dead, and abandoned him; he must then escape the mound himself. Such stories have drawn attention for their similarity with the fight between Beowulf and Grendel’s mother: Beowulf also wrestles his enemy, he finds an ancient sword that he must use to deliver the coup de grâce, and his companions abandon him when they believe he’s been killed. There may also have been Celtic influence on the “Gravemound Battle” tradition; an episode from the Iris
h Voyage of Maelduin is too close for coincidence.[117]
The main source for the second half of Hrómundar saga Gripssonar was the cycle of poems about the hero Helgi, partially preserved in the Poetic Edda. Helgi is loved by a valkyrie who protects him, and the couple is said to be reborn in three successive incarnations. First, he is Helgi Hjorvarðsson and she is Svava, as told in Helgakviða Hjörvarðssonar. Later they are reborn as Helgi Hundingsbani and Sigrún, whose lives are related in two poems, both known as Helgakviða Hundingsbana.[118] At the end of the poem Helgakviða Hundingsbana II there is this note:
Þat var trúa í forneskju, at menn væri endrbornir, en þat er nú kölluð kerlingavilla. Helgi ok Sigrún, er kallat, at væri endrborin. Hét hann þá Helgi Haddingjaskati, en hon Kára Hálfdanardóttir, svá sem kveðit er í Káruljóðum, ok var hon valkyrja.
It was a belief in the old days that people were reborn, but that is now called old wives’ tales. Helgi and Sigrun, it is said, were reborn. He was then named Helgi Haddingjaskati [“the Haddings’ mighty man”], and she was called Kara Halfdan’s daughter, as is told in the Káruljóð, and she was a valkyrie.
The Káruljóð or “Lay of Kara” has been lost—but Helgi Haddingjaskati’s and Kara’s fates are told in the second half of Hrómundar saga.[119]
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