Hello and welcome to the first in a new
series from the Reykjavík Grapevine entitled “Saga Stories.” My name is Matthew Roby and I'm a
postdoctoral fellow at the University of Iceland and I will be serving as your guide
on these videos, taking you to various beautiful places throughout
Iceland and telling you stories from the medieval Icelandic sagas that
were set in those locations.
We're beginning with our first
episode here at Þingvellir, which as many of you will know was
one of the most important locations in medieval Iceland. This was where the parliament
was founded in 930 and continued to be held all throughout the Commonwealth Period and indeed
after that point. The Alþing was held here until 1798 when it was temporarily suspended and
then when it restarted again in 1845, it was then housed in Reykjavik. But the fact that it was
founded in 930 makes it the oldest still surviving parliament in the world. But when it was held here
between 930 and the 1260s, which was when Iceland ceded power to Norway, it was sort of the seat of
all judicial and legislative power in Iceland. All the chieftains from all around the country would
descend on Þingvellir for two weeks every summer, where they would meet discuss new laws, hear
the old laws recited, settle legal cases, and perform all of the judicial and legislative
duties that they needed to. It was a huge event: estimates suggest that possibly up to
four thousand people would descend on Þingvellir during those two weeks, which made it
something of a temporary capital city during the… when it was being held. During the Middle
Ages, there were no towns in Iceland, but for the two weeks that the Þing was being
held, it was quite a well-populated area. And it wasn't just a place where people would be
performing those legal, formal duties. It was also a place where merchants and artisans would come
to sell their wares to the assembled attendees, and it was also where people from all around the
country would meet, renew or break alliances, and even arrange marriages. And so today we're
going to be going over a few of the stories that take place here. Obviously the Þing is
so important in medieval Iceland that very many of the medieval Icelandic sagas have
scenes here even if they are primarily set, you know, in various other places throughout the
country. But today we're going to be looking at three different stories from the sagas that
took place here, which sort of showcase the various different activities which made the
Þing so very important in medieval Iceland.
Some of the decisions that were undertaken
here at the Alþing had genuine national significance and an excellent example of that
is the christianization of Iceland, which was decided upon at the Alþing in the year 1000.
This story is related in a number of sources, most notably the 12th century Íslendingabók and
the 13th century Njáls saga and Kristni saga.
Now as the story goes, the Christian king Óláfr
Tryggvason came to power in Norway in 995 and as a Christian he sent out missionary expeditions to
the Shetland Islands, the Orkneys, the Faroes, and to Iceland as well. Now, the missionary
activity was met with some willingness by some of the chieftains and Icelanders but was
met with resistance and hostility by others, and in fact for a few years there was a significant
conflict between the two sides involving slanders made about each other's gods, killings – the
missionaries were responsible for killing a few of the pagans – and there are a number of very
interesting instances where Christian miracle is pitted against pagan magic, to see which one will
win out. Anyway, when it comes to the year 1000, both the Christians and the pagans arrive at the
Alþing and both of them have a substantial force and they come here to the lögberg
(law rock) and they declare themselves no longer bound to each other by law, which is a
very serious development. And the Christians even elect their own lawspeaker: so there's already
a pagan lawspeaker Þorgeirr Ljósvetningagoði and the Christians elect their own lawspeaker
Síðu Hallr. So this is a very important thing and it seems like tensions are mounting and
violence could even break out at the Þing itself. Now at that moment, according to one of
the sources, Kristni Saga, a messenger comes from several kilometers south of Þingvellir to announce
that one of the volcanoes there has erupted and one of the pagans says “Well of course, of course
the volcano has erupted: the pagan gods are angry that christianization might happen here.” And one
of the wise chieftains, Snorri goði, quips that “I mean Þingvellir is located on volcanic land, so
what exactly were the gods angry about when they created all of this lava?” So as I said, tensions
are high and violence might break out so to try and prevent this, the newly elected Christian
lawspeaker Síðu Hallr approaches the pagan lawspeaker Þorgeirr Ljósvetningagoði and asks him
to arbitrate on the matter, which is obviously a risky move on his part, because as a pagan
Þorgeirr will probably decide for the pagan side. But during this discussion, some money is also
said to change hands in some of the sources. And very famously then Þorgeirr returns to his booth
and puts his cloak over his head and lies down uninterrupted in deliberation. And he stays there
for the rest of that day all throughout the night and then into the next day, deliberating on
what he's going to do. And once he's finished, he summons everybody here to the lögberg – or the
law rock – which is where important announcements were often made at the Þing and he makes very
impassioned speech about the importance of respecting the law and the importance of the rule
of law and the obligations of law to one another to prevent conflict. And he gets both sides
who are here assembled at the lögberg, the Christians and the pagans, he gets both sides
to promise that they will abide by his decision. And they do so. And so then Þorgeirr says that
from now on Iceland is going to be Christian and rather famously he bans some
Christian [[correction: Pagan]] customs, including the exposure of children (that's
leaving children out to die), the worshipping of pagan idols, and the consumption of horse meat,
although the sources do say that Þorgeirr said these things can be practised in secret and
that continues for a few years apparently. But after that point Iceland has been
Christianised and it was all done through deliberation and arbitration and the rule of law.
This is a very significant story, revealing just how much the Icelanders respected the law and
valued it as a way of organizing their society. Obviously both sides were very invested in
the subject. The Christians and pagans both wanted their side to win, but ultimately
their respect for the law proved stronger and they managed to avoid the kinds of violence
which is seen in other Christianisation contexts. And of course the very other interesting
thing about the story is the possible bribe that took place between Síðu Hallr and Þorgeirr
Ljósvetningagoði. The sources are actually quite ambiguous about what this money-changing hands
entailed. They don't use a verb that means a bribe, it could have been just an appropriate fee
that Þorgeirr was being paid to make this decision and make an announcement. But it's also possible
that the peaceful and legislative Christianisation of Iceland was actually based on some money
changing hands between the two law speakers.
But not all of the decisions that were undertaken
at the Alþing had such national significance, and we now turn our attention to a story of
a much smaller legal feud. This is the saga that's called Ölkofra saga, which is about an
event that took place at the Þing in the decades following Christianisation. It was probably
written in the 13th century, but it's first attested in manuscripts from the 14th century, and
it's about a little, ugly old man called Þórhallr who lives nearby to Þingvellir and when the
Þing happens every year, he comes and brings ale that he's brewed to sell to the chieftains
and the attendees of the Þing. In fact, this is what he's primarily known for, selling ale, and
this explains what everybody calls him: Ölkofri, which just means Ale-Hood, because he sells ale
and he often wears a hood. Now one day Ölkofri is burning charcoal in a wood near to his house
and he accidentally falls asleep. And so the fire spreads and burns down the wood that he owns there
but the fire also spreads to a section of forest that's jointly owned by six chieftains, six of
the most important chieftains of the day, in fact, and when they hear that their woods have been
destroyed they respond quite selfishly. They think they can probably make a bit of money
out of this case, if they can. So they decide to prosecute Ölkofri for full outlawry,
in the hope that they will be able to get self-judgment, which is a process whereby they
would be allowed to choose just how much money would be awarded if the defendant is found guilty.
So earl cavalry arrives at the Þing that year and tries to seek help from the people that he's
previously sold ale to. He's sold ale to some of the other great chieftains and he thinks
that some of them might offer him support. But unfortunately, none of them do and
the saga says this might be because Ölkofri has been stingy in the past in the prices
of his ale, but it's obviously also because everybody fears this confederacy of six chieftains
who are prosecuting him. But there happens to be one young man at the Þing that year, Broddi
Bjarnason, who is about 20 years old at the time, and he is the brother-in-law of Þorsteinn
Síðu-Hallssonar, who is the son of Síðu-Hallr, the Christian lawspeaker that we discussed in the
story of Christianisation. Now Broddi can see that the chieftains are pursuing this case with great
meanness and selfishness, victimizing this old man who has very little means, very little authority,
and no support, so he decides that he will take on the case and he manages to convince his
brother-in-law Þorsteinn to support him as well, but they don't make their support of the case
public yet. Broddi advises Ölkofri to come here or somewhere around here, near where the
law council used to be held on the eastern side of the Öxará river and he asks him to… he asks
Ölkofri to approach some of the chieftains who are standing there talking and make a big scene: start
wailing and crying and saying how sorry he is, how scared he is of full outlawry if he's found
guilty, and how he wishes that he'd given them self-judgment at the first opportunity. And what
he says is “Oh, how I wish that I could give two good men such as yourselves self-judgment in
this case.” So naturally the two chieftains agree to this and they shake hands on it, but Ölkofri at
Broddi’s instruction has actually caught them in something of a legal loophole. What he said
was he hoped that two good men such as them might be given self-judgment, meaning not exactly
those two men, but two men of Ölkofri’s choosing, and he naturally chooses Broddi and Þorsteinn,
who are there. Now the chieftains don't know about the agreement that Ölkofri has made
with Broddi and Þorsteinn and so they agree. And Broddi and Þorsteinn then summon the
chieftains to the law rock to make their decision. Now as I said, Broddi could see that this case was
being pursued with great selfishness and this is exactly what they say at the law rock. They say
that great chieftains shouldn't be abusing their power in this way trying to take advantage of
poor people like Ölkofri who have no support and they give them a drastically undervalued
settlement for the woods. They offer each of the chieftains six ells of homespun cloth, which
is about 2.5 meters length of cloth, which is obviously a very low sum and in the speech that
they make while they are awarding them this sum, they shame them for being so selfish, and when
they give them the settlement, Broddi actually throws the cloth at each of the six chieftains and
calls it a coward's tax: this is a cowardly tax for how you have pursued this case. Now obviously,
the chieftains are very upset about this and they try to complain about it, but of course they were
they were caught up in that legal technicality where Ölkofri had tricked them into allowing
him to choose who would arbitrate. And Broddi sort of casts away and dismisses their
complaints with a series of slanders, some of which are sexual in nature, accusing one of them
of homosexuality, and one of them of supernatural gender changing. So the story is quite interesting
for a number of reasons. I mean one thing at the end there is that it shows the currency of sexual
slanders as a means of insulting people and this crops up in sagas all the time when people want
to insult someone else they often revert to a sexual taunt or insult. But the most important
feature of the story of course is that it serves as a criticism of the potential abuse of power by
chieftains. It sort of points out that, in this system of legislation that the Icelanders live
under, abuses could be made if chieftains chose to be selfish and the story serves as an argument
basically to chieftains not to abuse their power, not to abuse the law, and not to victimize
people who didn't have the support of the law.
Finally we move from the legal and judicial to
the social and romantic. As I mentioned before, marriages were also arranged here at the Alþing
and this is the story of one of those arranged marriages from Laxdæla saga, a saga which was
written in the 13th century and the story that we're talking about right now takes place in the
mid 10th century, before conversion took place. Now, a man named Óláfr pái which means Olaf the
peacock has just returned to Iceland after a successful trip to Ireland, where he confirmed his
descent from the royal family in Ireland. In fact, when he was born, it was thought that he was the
son of a slave woman who had been brought out here to Iceland, but then it turns out that she was
actually born as a princess and had been kidnapped at the age of 15 and sold into slavery. So he's
just come back from Ireland having found having… had a conversation with the king of Ireland and
received confirmation that he is in fact descended from that line. And when he returns home, he
has a conversation with his father Höskuldr, and Höskuldr suggests that now he should probably
arrange a marriage. And Höskuldr actually already has a woman in mind, supposedly the
best match in Iceland at the time, that's Þorgerðr Egilsdóttir who is the daughter
of Egill Skalla-Grímsson, about whose saga I'm sure we will do a future episode. Now, when
they arrive at the Þing, they come to a Egill Skallagrímsson’s booth to discuss this matter.
Now all of the booths were somewhere on… or a lot of the archaeological evidence of booths are
somewhere on the western shore of the Öxará river, so somewhere you know between here and the
lögeberg. And they go to Egill’s booth and Höskuldr broaches this topic with Egill.
And Egill Skalla-Grímsson says ‘Well I know the great lineage of Óláfr”, because he'd
heard about this story about the Irish king, and so he says “Now I have no problem with it,
but I will have to consult my daughter Þorgerðr, because there's no man who can convince Þorgerðr
to do something that she doesn't want to do.” So at that point Þorgerðr and Óláfr go away and
Egill discusses it with his daughter. And she responds quite coldly, she says “Is this really
the right way to treat your supposedly favorite daughter, to offer her in marriage to a slave
woman's son?” and Egill says “Well, you know, that's not strictly true: he's recently come back
from Ireland and it turns out that he actually is descended from the Irish king and so he is a
suitable match.” But Þorgerðr remains reluctant and she says “No, no, I don't actually
want to marry him”, and so that's that. Egill has to tell Höskuldr that the
negotiations have failed now Höskuldr then tells Óláfr about this and he's obviously
very disappointed and he thinks he might get some shame from having been refused. So he decides
that he will take matters into his own hands. So he puts on his best clothing, a suit of dyed
clothing that he got from the king of Norway, and girds himself with his best sword,
which is a sword that he was given by his grandfather the king of Ireland and he goes
over to Egill’s booth, again which, as I said, was probably somewhere here on the western shore
of the Öxará river um and speaks to Egill and he also sees that there is a woman sitting on the
bench and the saga seems to suggest that it's the first time that he's seen her. But he presumes
that this is Þorgerðr and so he goes over there and begins to speak to her and their conversation
begins with some witty sort of flirtatious dialogue. Óláfr says “You must think it bold for
a slave woman's son to sit next to you,” and she responds “Well you must believe you've done more
dangerous things than sit and talk with a woman.” And then the saga says that they spoke all day,
but nobody knew what they talked about or what they said after those first two lines. But by the
end, Þorgerðr has apparently decided that she does like him after all, and she tells her father Egill
Skalla-Grímsson that she would like to go ahead with the marriage. So the marriage goes ahead
and the couple are actually very happy together. Now what's significant about this story
is probably the emphasis that it puts on female consent. We might expect that stories of
marriage negotiations from the medieval period, including from medieval Iceland, would be
mostly a negotiation between the male parties where a party representing the potential
bridegroom will approach male representatives of the potential bride and arrange the match
on political and economic grounds. And, indeed, there are many saga accounts of marriage
negotiations that go that way, paying no attention at all to female consent. But at the
time that the sagas were written, female consent was becoming more and more important according to
the church and it was it was really getting into medieval Icelandic culture at that point. And so
there are many sagas, in fact, which discuss the importance of female consent, and stress how
a woman agreed before a match is successful, and elsewhere in Laxdæla saga it is also shown
that when a match is not consented to by the woman, it will usually be a complete disaster.
And this case – the marriage arrangement between Óláfr pái and Þorgerðr Egilsdóttir – is even
more significant, because it doesn't just emphasize the importance of female consent, but
also the idea that the bride and groom would meet each other and get to know each other before they
decided to marry, so possibly even suggesting the importance of love, falling in love, and getting
along socially to a successful marriage.
So that's it for this episode of “Saga Stories”
from Þingvellir. We hope you enjoyed it. If you did so, please remember to comment, like, and
subscribe below, and we hope you'll join us again for future saga stories from some of Iceland's
most beautiful locations. Thank you for watching.
