Tag Archives: The Collected Sagas of Icelanders

Fiction, Reviews

Saga reading report: ‘The Saga of the People of Floi’

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It occurred to me just today that I owe you a saga reading report. I read one from The Complete Sagas of Icelanders, as is my custom, during the Elk Horn Iowa event, and I forgot to tell you about it. This one was ‘The Saga of the People of Floi’ (Flóamanna saga). It’s not an example of high saga art, but it does not lack for interesting moments.

Although (like so many sagas) it starts with an overview of several generations of genealogy, its unquestioned hero is a man with the complex name of Thorgil Scar-leg’s-stepson (Ørrabeinsstjúps). (Among his ancestors is Aslaug, wife of Ragnar Lodbrok, whom fans of the Vikings TV series will recall). Thorgils satisfies the requirements for young saga heroes by going abroad to have adventures which are suspiciously similar to the adventures of other saga heroes (though at one point a man named Olmod the Old Karrason shows up, whom you may recall as a character in my novel The Year of the Warrior. This is the only non-Heimskringla reference to Olmod I’ve ever seen).

Then, having won the daughter of a king of Ireland as a wife, Thorgils returns in triumph to his home in Iceland. (The author has him generously bestow this Irish wife on a friend, to clear the deck for another wife, probably more historical.) There’s also an intriguing incident involving a “tub-duel,” where two men get into a large tub and fight with clubs – though Thorgils himself brings a sword, which is decisive if not very sporting.

We are informed that Thorgils was an early convert to Christianity, and later followed Erik the Red to the new Greenland colony. The stories involving Thorgils’ faith smell a little off to me, especially one where, during his Greenland voyage, Thor appears to him and demands a sacrifice. Thorgils refuses. Then he realizes that he has an ox that belongs to Thor on board, and so he throws it overboard. (That strikes me as an account of an actual maritime sacrifice, revised in spin doctor mode to satisfy a Christian audience.)

His ship is wrecked in Greenland, and he and his party suffer greatly before they can get help from other settlers. When Thorgils’ wife dies leaving him with a baby boy, he performs an action that has endeared him to feminist saga scholars ever since (Jane Smiley references it in The Greenlanders): he cuts his nipple, squeezing out first blood, then serum, then milk. And so he nurses his own son, to whom (we are told) he was particularly devoted thereafter.

In the end he can’t get along with Erik the Red (understandably), and returns to Iceland, dying a bitter and poor old man.

The Saga of the People of Floi is comparable to the Saga of Egil Skalagrimsson in telling a lively story about an unpleasant man. But it lacks the artistry of that work (which was very likely written by Snorri Sturlusson himself). Nevertheless, it’s both intriguing and highly memorable.

Fiction, Reading, Reviews

Saga reading report: ‘The Tale of Brand the Generous’

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A Viking merchant. Painting by my friend Anders Kvaale Rue.

Tonight’s reading from The Complete Sagas of Icelanders is a short one, less than two pages long. It’s known as “The Tale of Brand the Generous.” This is a fairly neat little anecdote, so neat as to appear (to this reader) a little implausible.

We encounter here yet another Icelandic merchant who has traveled to Norway. He is known as Brand the Generous. He’s a friend to the skald Thjodolf, who repeatedly praises his generosity (a quality much prized in Norse culture) to King Harald (I assume this is Harald Hardrada).

Harald (who was, according to reports, pretty generous himself when it came to gifts, though stingy with food) gets sick of Thjodolf bragging about Brand all the time, and proposes a test.

First, he asks Thjodolf to go to Brand and demand his cloak on the king’s behalf. Thjodolf goes, and Brand gives up the cloak without a word.

Then the king sends him back to ask for Brand’s gold-inlaid axe. Brand once again surrenders the item, still saying nothing.

Finally, Harald sends Thjodolf back a third time (Thjodolf is sorry by now he brought the whole thing up) and asks for the shirt off Brand’s back. Brand removes the shirt and sends it with him, but rips one sleeve off first.

King Harald is pleased with this response. He says, “This man is both wise and high-minded. It is obvious to me why he tore off the sleeve. He thinks that I have only one arm that always takes and never gives….” Then he sends for Brand, whom he now showers with honors and fine gifts.

I suspect this is more of a fable than a true anecdote – or perhaps it just got polished in retelling. It serves as a practical lesson in etiquette for men in that culture, most especially for merchants, and I imagine that explains its popularity. (It’s found in three saga collections, according to the end note.)

Fiction, Reading, Reviews

Saga reading report: ‘The Tale of Audun From the West Fjords’

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The actual face of King Svein Estridsson of Denmark. Reconstruction by Danish scientists in 1911. Photo credit: Arne Kvitrud.

I’ll probably be reporting on several Icelandic saga tales for a few days now, while I finish reading the long book I’m working on – intended for review elsewhere, no less (!).

Tonight’s offering is one of the more charming tales in The Collected Sagas of Icelanders. I was already pretty familiar with it, as the late Magnus Magnusson included it in his long-ago cassette recording, Tales From Viking Times (no longer available). It’s called “The Tale of Audun From the West Fjords.” This story focuses on good manners and good luck, rather than martial prowess or (apparently) cunning, as a means to get ahead in the world.

Audun is a poor young Icelander who goes to work for a rich merchant in order to make his fortune. After some profitable dealings, he sails to Greenland, where he takes a flyer – he trades in everything he’s earned thus far for the ultimate prestige item – a polar bear. This he determines (for some unexplained reason) to transport as a gift to King Svein Estridsson of Denmark. That’s a big deal, as, at the time, a white bear carried about the same social cachet a Lear Jet does today (though a bear is probably less useful in day to day business).

We are not informed what security measures are required for carrying a live bear on a Viking knarr, but no doubt a muzzle was involved.

His ship puts in in Norway on the way, and Audun takes the bear with him to his rented lodgings (what else could he do?). King Harald Hardrada (cue ominous background music) gets word of the new guy in town with the expensive bear. He summons Audun to see him, and an interesting – indeed, classic – conversation follows.

King Harald first asks (just in case he’s dealing with a moron) whether Audun will give him the bear in return for the price he paid for it. Audun refuses.

Then Harald asks if he’ll sell it for twice what he paid. Again, Audun says no (politely, I have no doubt).

Finally, Harald asks Audun if he’ll make him a gift of the bear. Again, Audun turns him down, explaining that he’s made his mind up to take it to King Svein.

If you sense that this is, for Audun, the most dangerous moment in the story, you’ve learned something of Norse culture. This final bid is in fact the highest of them all. If Audun were to give Harald the bear as a pure gift, Harald would be obligated, under the rules of honor, to reciprocate with an equally generous reward. The reward would have to be as extravagant as a white bear was rare. (This was during the Medieval Warming Period, so no doubt contemporary Al Gores were warning of sea levels rising.)

Audun’s refusal is so audacious that interpreters disagree to this day as to what it signifies. Is Audun just too much the country bumpkin to understand that these kings, Harald and Svein, are mortal enemies, and that denying the bear to Harald in order to give it to Svein is likely to enrage Harald – well-known to be a merciless enemy? Or is he somehow counting on Harald’s sense of honor (a dangerous gamble, considering Harald’s ethics)? One is reminded of yesterday’s story of Thorleif the Earl’s Poet, where Thorleif refused Jarl Haakon in a similar situation and brought doom on himself.

However, Audun has caught Harald on one of his good days, and Harald lets him go, making him promise to come back on his way home and tell him how Svein responded to the gift.

Audun then proceeds to Denmark, where he’s received graciously by King Svein (who looks very good in this story), rewarded with gifts, and made part of his household. Then Svein subsidizes Audun on a pilgrimage to Rome, and in the end (I’m skipping stuff here – Wikipedia gives a synopsis) sends him home with a ship and other treasures. Audun keeps his promise to stop off and see Harald again, and Harald is once again a good sport. Audun goes home rich.

The Tale of Audun From the West Fjords is a delightful story, easy to like. It’s also very revealing about Viking Age values and mores.

My only complaint is the somewhat weak, literal translation used in this collection. Some very vivid dialogue is here rendered flat and bland.