Inky links to Njal’s saga, which wikipedia says “has a deservedly high reputation as the greatest Icelandic saga.” National pride compels me to dispute this: my favorites were always the sagas that take place in Norway. (They were all written in Iceland.)
There is the momentous Heimskringla, of course, but the story I’m most personally connected to is Egil’s saga, which details events that took place in my hometown.
Egil’s saga, like all the family sagas, starts by explaining the relationship between the major players (this style was imitated by Tolkien, especially in the Silmarillion). It introduces Bard, heir to the large farm Torgar, and Sigrid, daughter of Sigurd and heir to his farm Sandnes (today), a little ways to the north of Torgar. Torgar is desirable because it’s a wealthy farm, and because the owner administered the Finn tax (taxing the Samí who lived in what is now parts of northern Norway, Finland and Russia). Sandnes is even wealthier, and Sigrid is described as “the best match in Halogaland”. Bard marries Sigrid, then enlists as a Hirdman to king Harold Hairfair, who was at the time busy uniting Norway into one kingdom. In the hird, he becomes friends with Thorolf Kveldulv’s son, and the two make their name in the battle of Hafr’s Firth, the final battle of Harold’s campaign. Bard dies of wounds from the battle, but before he does, he declares his will that Thorolf inherit his possessions and his wife. That was just how the vikings rolled, and thus Thorolf, with the king’s blessing, becomes the wealthiest man in Northern Norway, owner of the two largest and wealthiest farms and of the right to tax the Samí.
This is where things turn sour. Thorolf sends parts of the Finn tax as tribute to the king. Problem is, he’s a man with enemies, and, in true family saga fashion, the relationships are complicated. Bard’s father, Brynjolf, was heir to his father, Bjorgolf. After Brynjolf’s mother dies, his father marries a young woman named Hildirida, and fathers two sons with her. But after Bjorgolf dies, Brynjolf sends away Hildirida and her sons, and they inherit nothing from Hildirida’s husband. Then Brynjolf’s son Bard inherits the farm, and he in turn passes it on to his friend Thorolf. When Thorolf inherits the farm, he is approached by Hildirida’s sons, who want to claim their inheritance. But Thorolf refers them to Bard’s judgment — he called them illegitimate, and declared their claims to be void — and refuses to give them anything. Thus Thorolf inherits their hatred, and it’s Hårek, one of Hildirida’s sons, who tells the king that Thorolf hasn’t been giving him his due tribute. This slander — after a little military back-and-forth between Thorolf and the king — leads to a scene my second-grade teacher has imprinted in my memory forever. The king travels with his force to Sandnes, where Thorolf, who has decided to flee, is holding his going-away party (which explains the lack of sentries: they all “sate within drinking”). The king asks the women and children to leave the hall, and Thorolf’s wife, Sigrid, pleads with him to pardon Thorolf:
The king answered, ‘If Thorolf will yield him to my mercy, then shall he have life and limb, but his men shall undergo punishment according to the charges against them.’
Upon this Aulvir Hnuf went to the room, and had Thorolf called to speak with him, and told him what terms the king offered them.
Thorolf answered that he would not take of the king compulsory terms or reconciliation. ‘Bid thou the king allow us to go out, and then leave we things to go their own course.’
The king said: ‘Set fire to the room; I will not waste my men by doing battle with him outside; I know that Thorolf will work us great man-scathe if he come out, though he has fewer men than we.’
So fire was set to the room, and it soon caught, because the wood was dry and the walls tarred and the roof thatched with birch-bark. Thorolf bade his men break up the wainscoting and get gable-beams, and so burst through the planking; and when they got the beams, then as many men as could hold on to it took one beam, and they rammed at the corner with the other beam-end so hard that the clasps flew out, and the walls started asunder, and there was a wide outlet.
First went out Thorolf, then Thorgils Yeller, then the rest one after another. Fierce then was the fight; nor for awhile could it be seen which had the better of it, for the room guarded the rear of Thorolf’s force. The king lost many men before the room began to burn; then the fire attacked Thorolf’s side, and many of them fell. Now Thorolf bounded forwards and hewed on either hand; small need to bind the wounds of those who encountered him. He made for where the king’s standard was, and at this moment fell Thorgils Yeller. But when Thorolf reached the shield-wall, he pierced with a stroke the standard-bearer, crying, ‘Now am I but three feet short of my aim.’ Then bore at him both sword and spear; but the king himself dealt him his death-wound, and he fell forward at the king’s feet. The king called out then, and bade them cease further slaughter; and they did so.
The historical existence of Thorolf is disputed; Egil’s saga is the primary source to his life. Sigrid is the local symbolic “strong woman”; the main street in Sandnessjøen — the evolution of Sandnes, where I lived until recently — is named after Thorolf. A fitting memento, perhaps, of the time when the town was a major force. (If you haven’t been relevant in 1100 years, you dig deep in history to find a point of pride.)
Sep 14, 2010