Religion infused all aspects of life, but it had to coexist with the reality of survival. Daily life was hard. Nature was often cruel, and one couldn’t afford to be complacent. If you were an Icelandic farmer you made offerings to Thor, and to a lesser extent to Freyr and Odin, and if you were a woman trying to conceive or get a husband, then perhaps to Freya. But you also worked hard and struggled for your livelihood.
When the first Christians came, the Icelandic people were bemused. It was only later, when Christian missionaries began to use violence, and King Olaf threatened to imprison Icelandic people abroad, that they were forced to make concessions. The story of Iceland’s conversion, of the lawspeaker Thorgeir and his two-day vigil beneath a cloak at the Althing, is an astonishing one. I have simplified it slightly in the book, but it happened much the way I describe. No bloody wars. No massacres. Just a peaceful transition.
Above all, the Icelandic people were pragmatic; by the year 1000 they realised Christianity was inevitable. They valued their independence from the rest of Scandinavia, perhaps even more than their faith. The fact that they lived in isolated farmsteads and could continue to worship as they pleased made them all the more receptive. In reality, heathen beliefs and practices coexisted happily alongside Christianity for many centuries thereafter.
Finally, this is a love story. I began my infatuation with Iceland some years ago, and it continues unabated. Anyone who has ever languished in the warm thermal waters of an ancient ring of stones, staring out at a wondrously beautiful, seemingly benign yet potentially lethal mountain range will understand my affection for this amazing island and its stalwart inhabitants. This book is my love letter to Iceland and her people. May they long survive.
BETSY TOBIN
2007
Betsy Tobin Page 30