I usually top a book review with a picture of the book’s cover, but the Kindle version of the book I’m dealing with tonight is a generic free book design. So instead, I present you a picture of the gigantic statue of Frithiof the Bold that overlooks the Sognefjord in Norway. I’ve seen it, but only from a distance, as I cruised in a ship on the fjord. This statue was erected by none other than Kaiser Wilhelm II of Germany, who was a huge fan of Frithiof’s Saga, which I’ll be reviewing tonight. I figured it had been a while since I’d reviewed a saga, and Frithiof’s, though a legendary one, has many points of interest, not least for its reception in fairly modern times. I’ve written about it before, a number of years ago, but I have more to say now. I read The Story of Frithiof the Bold in Eirikr Magnusson’s and William Morris’ classic translation.

Frithiof (or Fridtjof, there are variable spellings) is the son of a minor Viking chieftain. His family lives on one side of the Sognefjord in Norway, while King Beri lives on the other. The king and Frithiof’s father are good friends, but their sons don’t get along. Frithiof is (of course) tall, handsome, strong, and bold – everything a Viking should be. The king’s sons seem capable enough, but Frithiof always outshines them, and they hate him for it. Their sister Ingibiorg, however, likes Frithiof very well, and they make personal vows to each other. At one point, when the king and the brothers are away, Frithiof dallies with Ingibiorg in the god Baldur’s sacred precincts, where such carryings-on are forbidden.

So when King Beri dies, the kings’ sons send Frithiof on a diplomatic mission, to collect tribute in Orkney. While he’s gone, they burn down his farm and marry Ingibiorg off to old King Ring of Ringerike in eastern Norway.

After many adventures, Frithiof comes to serve (under an alias) in King Ring’s court. In that capacity, he becomes the king’s protector. He gets the chance to kill him, but resists the temptation. This leads ultimately to that rarest of elements in a saga – a happy ending.

If you’d lived most anywhere in western Europe in the early to mid-19^th Century, you’d have probably been familiar with Frithiof’s Saga. It went viral while most of the sagas were still largely unknown. This was because a Swedish poet, Esaias Tegnér, discovered it and translated it in verse form. His poem was in turn translated into many other languages. Readers responded to its heroic tone, and also to its (apparent) elements of forgiveness and reconciliation. These made it more accessible to the Victorian, Christian reader than such sagas as Njal’s or Egil’s.

My own reading (even in Magnusson’s and Morris’ very Victorian translation) suggests that this interpretation is not entirely correct. Frithiof is admirable, indeed, in not killing the king who had married the girl he loved. But for the saga audience, his virtue lies not so much in forgiveness and finding a peaceful solution (the name Frithiof actually means “peace-thief”), but in his living up to the ethos of his culture, at some personal cost. Frithiof’s enemies are Ingibiorg’s brothers, not King Ring, who has acted honorably throughout. On top of that, he was a good and brave king, deserving of honor. Frithiof has sworn oaths to protect Ring, so protect him he does. His treatment of Ingibiorg’s brothers will be rather different. They’ve treated him treacherously, and can expect little mercy from him.

Reading The Story of Frithiof the Bold from my own perspective, as a lifelong student of Erling Skjalgsson of Sola, I discovered certain parallels to Erling’s own saga, as preserved in Heimskringla. They’re intriguing and (I must admit) a little troubling.

For instance, at one point Frithiof is offered the title of king, but refuses it because none of his ancestors were kings. Erling does that very thing, as you may recall from The Year of the Warrior. (Though Frithiof does accept a kingship at the end of the story.) Also, there’s an objection to Frithiof’s marrying Ingibiorg, because he doesn’t have high enough rank. Similar, again, to Erling’s story. Also, the line from the poem Bjarkamál, “Breast to breast the eagles will claw each other,” is quoted in both tales.

Then we’re told that Frithiof eventually came to rule Hordaland, the homeland of Erling’s own family. I wouldn’t be surprised to learn that Frithiof was one of Erling’s ancestors. It may well be that Snorri had Frithiof in mind when he wrote about Erling.

The Story of Frithiof the Bold is worth reading, though I’m not a great fan of the antique diction Magnusson and Morris employ. (I have to admit, though, that that gimmick allows them to use actual Old Norse words as archaisms from time to time.) Certainly, as in the 19^th Century, it remains one of the most accessible saga tales.