Fact and Fiction in the Icelandic Sagas

Margaret Cormack*

College of Charleston

Abstract

After a survey of the types of historical evidence that can be used for comparison
with Icelandic sagas, current scholarly approaches to these sagas as historical sources
are presented and critiqued. Pitfalls in using this material are pointed out, and some
new research is discussed.

Medieval Iceland is perhaps best known for its literature, both the mythology,
preserved in the Eddic poems and the writings of Snorri Sturluson, and the
laconic, lengthy, and (to modern sensibilities) violent sagas about ancient
heroes, Scandinavian kings, and the Icelanders themselves. I have little to
say here about the mythology, except to note that many of the episodes
described in Icelandic texts are also found in carvings in Scandinavia and
the British Isles, and that skaldic poetry (described below) both incorporated
and required the preservation of the necessary narratives. As to the poems
of the Poetic Edda, there is little agreement – and no means of proof –
whether they are accurate renditions of pagan chants or post-Christian
compositions.

The sagas, however, have attracted international attention as historical

writings for the last four centuries. Their value as historical sources has been
criticized for almost as long.

1

A saga is not – as might be presumed from

many translations and editions – the recoverable or reconstructable work of
an anonymous author, comparable to a nineteenth-century novelist, nor yet
a scribal recording of an oral composition passed down unchanged through
the generations. Although these positions – known as “Book Prose Theory”
and “Free Prose Theory,” respectively – are no longer maintained in such
simplistic form, the argument as to the extent to which the sagas reflect a
literate or an oral culture continues.

2

The degree to which any saga may be

the work of a single mind is still debated, as is the extent to which that
individual will have used existing sources (oral or written), his own reasoning,
or pure invention. We have no “autograph” manuscripts of the texts we
study. Compilers and/or scribes may have, consciously or unconsciously,
altered the text to suit their own goals and taste. Someone who thought he
knew better might easily “correct” the text he was copying. But on what
basis would this be done? Did he have another written source, or was he

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relying on family reminiscences? And did those writings or reminiscences
convey accurate information about the time of which he wrote?

The word “saga” itself means simply “tale” or “story” (and also the events

on which such a story is based). With the exception of a few translations
and histories of Norwegian kings, the sagas are Icelandic products, written
in the language common to Iceland and Norway until the middle of the
fourteenth century, and referred to in current scholarly usage as “Old
Norse-Icelandic.” Although Icelandic clerics did produce historical and
hagiographic works in Latin about Norwegian kings and Icelandic saints,
these are known only from vernacular translations. Sagas are traditionally
categorized according to subject matter. “Kings’ sagas” deal with kings,
although Orkneyinga saga, which tells the history of the earls of Orkney, is
often included in this group. “Family sagas” deal with the antecedents and
feuds of prominent Icelanders or Icelandic families, from the period of
settlement to the eleventh century. “Sagas of contemporaries” treat “contem-
porary” events, i.e. those that took place within one hundred to one hundred
and fifty years of the time of writing. They comprise the sagas of Icelandic
bishops (two of whom were also saints) and a dozen sagas about power-
struggles in Iceland during the twelfth and thirteenth centuries, most of
which are included in the compilation known as Sturlunga saga, which was
completed c. 1300. Most of the sagas in the genres just mentioned were
written in the thirteenth century, the “Age of the Sturlungs.” Finally, there
are “chivalric sagas” – translations or original compositions based ultimately
on European courtly literature – “sagas of ancient times,” which deal with
the mythic past of Scandinavia – and “sagas of saints,” translations and
adaptations of Latin hagiographical works. Latin histories of Rome and Troy
were also translated. In the following, I will ignore the last three categories,
which are generally considered to have little historical value, and focus on
the sagas of Icelanders (ancient or contemporary) and sagas of kings.

In considering these works as historical sources, it may be useful to

consider what kind of evidence is available that might support, or contradict,
their accounts. For the period through the eleventh century, countries
affected by viking invasions, or which bordered on Scandinavian lands,
produced works such as the Anglo-Saxon Chronicle and Adam of Bremen’s
Gesta Hammaburgensis ecclesiae pontificum. Major figures such as Sveinn
Forkbeard and Olaf  Tryggvason can be identified in their pages, doing
approximately what is described in more detail in their sagas. It can be
difficult, however, to match the list of battles preserved in sagas and skaldic
poems about the kings (see below) with those described by local chroniclers.
Non-Scandinavian sources often give a rather different perspective on a
figure’s importance than that found in his saga, as can be seen by comparing
the paragraph about Harald harðráði (“the hard ruler”) in the Byzantine
“Advice to the Emperor” with the saga-length account of his exploits in
Morkinskinna.

3

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Two kinds of Scandinavian sources are contemporary with the events

they describe: runic inscriptions and skaldic poetry. Unfortunately, neither
of these sources provides the sort of detail historians would like. Runic
inscriptions from Denmark, Sweden, and Norway commemorate local
events and individuals, bearing witness, for example, to the adoption of
Christianity in Denmark, as well as to the “flip side” of  Viking raids –
individuals who “took the geld” in England (and some who died there).

4

One inscription records the apparently peaceful conversion of Jamtland (now
part of Sweden), which is unknown from other sources.

5

Skaldic verse is a complex form of verse used, among other things, in

praise poems for royalty. It was believed by thirteenth-century Icelandic
authors to contain valuable historical information about the kings in whose
honor it was recited. As stated in the introduction to Heimskringla:

At the court of King Harald [Fine Hair] there were skalds, and men still remember
their poems and the poems about all the kings who have since his time ruled in
Norway; and we gathered most of our information from what we are told in
those poems which were recited before the chieftains themselves or their sons. We
regard all that to be true which is found in those poems about their expeditions
and battles. It is [to be sure] the habit of poets to give highest praise to those
princes in whose presence they are; but no one would have dared to tell them
to their faces about deeds which all who listened, as well as the prince himself,
knew were only falsehoods and fabrications. That would have been mockery,
still not praise.

6

The author of this passage is not uncritical: he accepts only what is told

about expeditions and battles, precisely what has been preserved for us in
chronicles like Fagrskinna and Heimskringla, where the verse is both source
and confirmation of the prose account. However, poetry could also be used
to ornament prose, so the question of its authenticity always lurks in the
background.

7

In Norway, the second half of the twelfth century saw the appearance of

the “synoptic histories.” Two of them are in Latin: the anonymous Historia
Norwegiae and the Historia de antiquitate regum Norwagiensium by the monk
Theodoricus. The third, Ágrip af Nóregskonungasögum, is the oldest vernacular
history of the kings of Norway, and appears to make use of the other
two. The Latin works resonate in interesting ways with Íslendingabók (see
below), and Theodoricus explicitly cites the poems of the Icelanders as a
valuable source of information not preserved in Norway. He has, however,
done his homework in the Latin chronicles, and is able to inform us, on the
basis of a Historia Normannorum (presumably a history of Normandy rather
than Norway, perhaps that of William of Jumièges) that St. Olaf was baptized
in Rouen rather than in England or Norway.

8

In Iceland, writing is hardly likely to have been practiced much before

the time of the first native bishop, Ísleifr Gizurarson (1056–81), half a century
after the country formally adopted Christianity. The first extant Icelandic
historical work (interestingly it is written in the vernacular) was produced

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early in the next century; Ari Þorgilsson composed Íslendingabók (The Book
of Icelanders) between 1122 and 1133. It is a supplement to an earlier work
which has not survived. Ari’s main sources were the memories of reliable,
long-lived persons whom he knew and from whom he learned, and his
information, as far as it goes, is likely to be correct. The Book of the Icelanders
is not, however, a history in the modern sense; it provides a chronological
framework for major religious, legal, and administrative developments in
the history of Iceland, but no more. Ari’s work was, however, highly thought
of by subsequent Icelanders, and his name is invoked as authoritative in
historical works such as Heimskringla.

Another work with which Ari appears to have been involved is

Landnámabók (The Book of Settlements), a survey of the settlers of Iceland,
their land claims, and their descendants. The difficulty involved in using
this work is due to the fact that, although a twelfth-century layer can be
detected, all extant versions were compiled during the thirteenth century
or later. The traditional view of the relationships of the manuscripts among
themselves presumed a spare, “factual” basis, to which narrative had been
added by redactors of the extant texts, who would also have continued the
genealogies down to their own time.

9

This view has recently been called

into question by Auður Ingvarsdóttir, who points out that the sparse text
of the manuscript fragment Melabók need not, in fact, represent the original
form of Landnáma. Those responsible for Melabók may simply have wanted
it pruned of extraneous material.

10

We should therefore not automatically

reject the possibility that the earliest form of the work was as rich in
genealogy and brief narratives as those which have survived. However, if
this is the case, it simply pushes back to an earlier period a question that has
exercised scholars for some time: what is the relationship between the
genealogies and narratives in Landnámabók and those in the sagas? In some
cases, identity of text suggests scribal borrowing (But in which direction?).
In others instances, discrepancies suggest either authorial invention/adaptation
or the existence of independent oral tradition, but give no clue as to which
version is likely to be more accurate. Nor can genealogy be considered an
intrinsically “pure” form of source material, as is often assumed in Icelandic
scholarship. It can easily be manipulated for political or ideological purposes;
Adolf Friðriksson and Orri Vésteinsson have recently reminded us how
political realities of the thirteenth century have influenced the depiction of
certain land-claims.

11

They also remind us that in many cases the compilers

of Landnáma are likely to have “created” a settler from a place-name, which
does not necessarily provide proof of the settler’s existence. This observation
calls into question the very existence of a large number of individuals.

Annals were kept at various religious houses, and the surviving manuscripts

contain a common “core” of events which suggests that they derive from
a compilation made in the second half of the thirteenth century. However,
the dating of Icelandic events in the annals is largely derived from the sagas
themselves and so cannot be used to check them.

12

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Finally, the law was recorded in about the third decade of the twelfth

century in the compilations now referred to as Grágás.

13

Once again, the

earliest extant texts are from the second half of the thirteenth century, and
although individual provisions can sometimes be dated to the intervening
period, there is room for disagreement as to exactly what the law would
have been at any given time. The fact that the legal procedures and
administrative structure described in Grágás contrast strikingly with the
accounts found in the family sagas has often been used to discredit the
latter.

Turning to the sagas themselves, the first prose narrative that can be

described as such is Hryggjarstykki by Eiríkr Oddsson. Its original form cannot
be known, as it has survived only as part of later compilations, but it appears
to have been written in the middle of the twelfth century and to have dealt
with the conflicts among claimants to the Norwegian throne during (at least)
the period 1130–39. Abbot Karl Jónsson of the monastery at Þingeyrar, who
was in Norway 1185 –88, was commissioned to write Sverris saga, the story
of Sverrir Sigurðarson, king of Norway 1177–1202. Sagas about other
Norwegian kings soon followed, including Olaf Tryggvason (d. 995) and
St. Olaf Haraldsson (d. 1030). Olaf Tryggvason was considered responsible
for the formal conversion of the Icelanders to Christianity, a generation
before St. Olaf completed the Christianization of Norway; the two Latin
lives composed at the end of the twelfth century may have been intended
to make Olaf Tryggvason a saint. The surviving sagas about him (including
texts incorporated in larger chronicles) are largely based on these. Latin vitae
must have existed for Þorlákr Þórhallsson and Jón Ögmundarsson, two
bishops locally canonized in 1198 and 1200, respectively, but they have not
survived; we have only the vernacular sagas about the two saints, which are
presumed to be fairly close to the Latin originals, and were probably created
early in the thirteenth century. Hungrvaka, a short history of the bishops of
Skálholt written in the vernacular, is probably also from that period.

The earliest version of Orkneyinga saga was probably composed by the

end of the twelfth century. Vernacular chronicles dealing with Norwegian
kings soon followed: Morkinskinna, Heimskringla and Fagrskinna (possibly a
Norwegian, rather than an Icelandic, product) are all thought to have been
composed (or compiled) in the early thirteenth century, and incorporate or
adapt earlier Icelandic and Norwegian works.

14

Of these, Heimskringla covers

the longest period and has the greatest literary appeal (although the author
of the present article prefers Morkinskinna in this respect); furthermore, its
realistic, secular treatment of the past makes it attractive to historians. For
these reasons its account of the Norwegian kings is by far the best known.
Recent translations of the other works, as well as the Norwegian synoptic
histories and Oddr Snorrason’s Saga of Olaf Tryggvason, allow those who do
not read Icelandic to compare Heimskringla to its sources and to contemporary
historical works. Knýtlinga saga, composed shortly after the middle of the
thirteenth century, chronicles the history of the kings of Denmark. It appears

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to be modelled on Heimskringla, and it makes use of Danish writings in Latin
as well as vernacular Icelandic ones. In the second half of the thirteenth
century Sturla Þórðarson (d. 1284) was commissioned to compose sagas
about the Norwegian king Hákon Hákonarson (ruled 1217–63) and his son,
Magnús (ruled 1263–80).

Secular sagas about Icelanders, whether dealing with the period of

settlement, conversion, or contemporary events, began to appear in the
thirteenth century, and it is in this extremely violent century that the great
classics like Egils saga Skallagrímssonar, Njáls saga, and Laxdæla saga were
composed. The century saw the culmination of a period of consolidation
of power in the hands of a relatively small number of Icelandic families and,
in 1262 –64, acceptance of the sovereignty of the Norwegian king. Sagas
were composed in the fourteenth century about Bishop Árni Þorláksson of
Skálholt (d. 1298), Bishop Laurentius Kálfsson of Hólar (d. 1331), and Bishop
Guðmundr Arason (d. 1237; the authors of his sagas clearly had canonization
in mind). Fourteenth-century sagas with secular protagonists tend to focus
on individuals rather than districts or sociopolitical issues; the sagas invoked
by social historians are usually from the earlier period.

If the thirteenth century was the era of saga writing, most of the products

were preserved in manuscripts from a later period, when the king’s authority
was recognized. Möðruvallabók, which provides the oldest exemplars of
seven sagas, was composed in the fourteenth century, as was Hauksbók, a
compendium of sagas and other Icelandic historical works (such as
Landnámabók), mathematics, and religious writings (compiled before 1334).
Flateyjarbók, a cut-and-paste compilation which interweaves sagas of
Icelanders with those of Norwegian kings, and contains numerous unique
versions and texts, was compiled at the very end of the fourteenth
century. Whether studying the sagas for their historical or literary value, it
is necessary to bear in mind not only the context of the original saga (if it
can be deduced), but the context in which it has been preserved, and how
compilers may have altered the text to their own ends. Their concerns might
be as pragmatic as making the parchment last as long as possible, which
apparently led to systematic abbreviation in Hauksbók, or as ideological as
commemorating Norwegian kings, which seems to have been the aim of
Flateyjarbók. In a recent publication, Patricia Boulhosa has argued that the
uncertainties of transmission give the scholar no choice but to use the sagas
as evidence of the Icelandic mentalité at the time of copying; she sees
representations of Icelanders’ interactions with Norwegian kings in the sagas
as reflecting attitudes during a lengthy submission process which lasted from
the mid-thirteenth through the fourteenth century.

15

She argues that this

reasoning should also be applied to Grágás and to the Gamli sáttmáli (Old
Covenant), the “contract” by which Iceland is believed to have accepted
the rule of the king of Norway in the 1260s. By her account it is a fiction
created in the fifteenth century and reflects the problems of that century
rather than the thirteenth. Her ideas are hotly debated, and while few scholars

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are willing to accept a wholesale re-dating of the sagas in Möðruvallabók, her
suggestions concerning Gamli sáttmáli have found several defenders.

The sagas about Icelanders – especially the family sagas – are of interest

not only for their literary quality, but also because of the data they appear
to provide for “anthropological” study of a frontier society, dispute
resolution, and other topics. The remainder of this article will be concerned
with the extent to which such use of these sagas is justified.

The general consensus today is that sagas about Icelanders provide genuine

insight into the social structure and social processes of Iceland in the twelfth
and thirteenth centuries, when they were written, rather than the ninth
through eleventh centuries which are their setting. This is the point of
departure for William Ian Miller, whose Bloodtaking and Peacemaking remains
an indispensible study of saga society.

16

His work combines information

found in family sagas with that from sagas of contemporaries, though it relies
more heavily on the former.

It will be recalled that the family sagas are, relatively speaking, “ancient”

history, while sagas of contemporaries, notably Sturlunga saga, describes the
period during which the composition of both genres actually took place; this
being the case, Miller’s approach makes sense. However, if these groups of
sagas are compared, rather than being combined, interesting contrasts emerge.

In “The Medieval Icelandic Heroine: Fact or Fiction,” Jenny Jochens

shows that the ideal of marriage as portrayed in the family sagas
(monogamous, with the woman’s consent being asked) is not attested either
in Grágás (which Jochens takes to represent the traditional way of doing
things) or Sturlunga saga. Jochens argues that the emphasis is due to
ecclesiastical influence:

The clerical authors regarded this issue [the woman’s consent] so seriously that
in their fictional lives of their ancestors they made it an integral part of the pagan
marriage contract, doubtless in hopes of presenting a model underscored when
we perceive that in the family sagas all the five marriages contracted against the
expressed will of the women ended in disaster.

17

Another article she published in the same year analyzes the theme of a
woman’s consent by literary genre, and shows that it reflects the geographical
setting, as well as the degree of “fictionality” of the sources.

18

Jón Viðar Sigurðsson would probably attribute the discrepancy between

family sagas and Sturlunga saga to accurate historical recollection. He explains
a related observation – the infrequency of references to rape, or to the
keeping of mistresses, in the family sagas as opposed to Sturlunga saga – as
illustrating a historical social change. In the earlier period, by his account,
kinsmen were able to protect their women, while by the thirteenth century
the concentration of power in a few hands led to the inability of the less
powerful to defend their wives and daughters.

19

A better explanation has

been proposed by Auður Magnúsdóttir, who notes that in the thirteenth
century the keeping of mistresses was a conscious alternative to marriage

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which enabled chieftains to maintain power bases throughout the country.

20

Instead of marrying the daughters of their rivals for power, chieftains entered
into relationships with the female relatives of local leaders who could then
be relied on for support. There is no evidence that the women’s kinsmen
objected to the arrangement; indeed, they might have welcomed this means
of upward mobility. As to what the women themselves thought, we are left
completely in the dark. In sagas of Icelanders, mistresses are mentioned when
their sons play a significant part in the action; the fact that we hear less about
them in such works may simply reflect the fact that these sagas generally
have a much smaller cast of characters.

Turning to a topic that has attracted more scholarly attention than

marriage, Sverre Bagge has noted a similar difference between the two types
of saga with regard to feuding. In the family sagas feuds result from the
demands of a code of honor, while in Sturlunga saga they are motivated
simply by greed for power. Bagge comments that:

The reason for this difference may be that Sturlunga saga more directly reflects
the intense power struggle in early 13

th

c. Iceland, whereas the family sagas have

a more literary character. But the change in viewpoint may have something to
do with actual changes in Icelandic society, from a relatively stable society with
a large number of magnates who maneuvered for gain and tried to protect their
adherents while having a common interest in keeping the conflicts within certain
limits, to the violent conflicts between a few great magnates, governing the real
principalities, who ruthlessly exploited any conflict that could gain them
advantages at the cost of their rivals.

21

It is precisely the negotiation of honor, as depicted in the family sagas,

for which Miller is best known. But what do these depictions of “honor”
represent? Genuine recollection of a dying mentalité, idealization of the
“good old days” when men and women were motivated by desire for
something other than riches and power, or critique of an outdated ideology
that has been superceded by Christian morality? Was the concept still viable
in the Age of the Sturlungs, where it has been missed because of the mass
of detail, changes in language, or lack of female characters to make the point?
(It is usually women – “female inciters” – who remind men of the demands
of honor in the family sagas.) This could well be part of the idealization of
the early period, if it was thought that in a later age, men showed less
moderation and didn’t need reminding of their duty. As with honor, so
with religion. Do accounts of paganism found in the sagas represent genuine
recollections, or are they back projections modelled on Christianity?

22

Are

pagan characters held up to their descendants as positive or negative
exemplars? (The answer to this question will, of course, differ from saga to
saga.)

Any reader of the sagas must ultimately come to grips with the extent to

which oral tradition can be an accurate transmitter of actions and ideologies
of the past. In a minority position, Jón Viðar Sigurðsson considers that it
can; however, the most recent work on the subject in English explicitly

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warns against the identification of oral tradition with historical accuracy.

23

I doubt that any saga scholar today would deny that, to some degree, most
of the “classic” sagas deal with real people and real events; but to what extent
do they represent genuine recollections, to what extent invention? Are we
justified in looking for a “message” in these texts – and to what extent might
the “facts” be adjusted in order to present that message? These questions
are valid whether the presentation is oral or written.

Instead of discussing generalities, it may be useful to look at specific cases.

I will begin with the question of “message,” because I consider that in saga
studies authorial (or scribal, or editorial) intent is far too often ignored. In
part, this is a natural result of the inability to identify authors, and the
realization that we do not have an “autograph” copy of any saga.

A “message” is made explicit in two sagas, one dealing with events in the

distant past, another with recent history. In Heiðarvíga saga St. Olaf, king of
Norway, criticizes a taint of paganism about Barði Guðmundarson, apparently
a reference to his violence, which is extreme even by the standards of the
time.

24

Even more interesting in this regard is Hrafns saga Sveinbjarnarsonar. As

mentioned above, most of the secular “sagas of contemporaries” are included
in Sturlunga saga, produced around 1300 when a redactor “cut and pasted”
component works to create a continuous chronology. The two manuscripts
of Sturlunga saga are the only source of many of the sagas they contain. Hrafns
saga Sveinbjarnarsonar, however, has been preserved in an independent
redaction which clearly shows that the compiler of Sturlunga “cut” more
than he “pasted.” The so-called “independent saga” of Hrafn Sveinbjarnarson
contains religious elements which were deleted when the saga was
incorporated in the compilation. It also contains a rare authorial prologue
(prologues are more common in writings about saints or kings than in those
about lay Icelanders) which is worth quoting in its entirety:

Many events which take place fall from memory, and some are told differently
from the way they were, and many people believe lies and doubt the truth. But
because a lie can be turned back if it meets the truth, we intend to write down
various events which took place in our times among people known to us, of
which we know the truth. In those events will be seen the great patience which
Almighty God has with us every day, and the free will that he gives every man,
so that each one may do as he pleases, good or evil.

25

One wonders what insights on Icelandic literature and society might have

been provided in other passages excised by the compiler of Sturlunga.

Among the sagas most often combed for historical content are the two

dealing with Vínland (North America). Attempts are repeatedly made to
create a coherent history based on these texts, or to mine them for
information on topics as varied as the practice of magic and the position of
women. Such temptations should be resisted. As usual, the sagas survive
only as copies. Grænlendinga saga (GS) is preserved in Flateyjarbók, where it
has been divided into three sections, interspersed in the Saga of Olaf

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Tryggvason. Eiríks saga rauða (ES) is known from Hauksbók (whose author
regularly abbreviates the wording of his exemplars) and Skálholtsbók (which,
in spite of numerous scribal errors, provides a better base text than
Hauksbók). While both sagas tell of voyages to North America by a similar
(though not identical) cast of characters, they differ in many respects. In GS
the continent is first spotted by Bjarni Herjólfsson, who is not mentioned
in ES. (In both sagas, Leifr Eiríksson is the first to set foot there.) While
Guðríðr Þorbjarnardóttir is a prominent character in both of them, identified
as ancestress of three bishops, in GS she ends her life at Glaumbær in
Skagafjörður (after a pilgrimage to Rome) while in ES she retires to
Reynisnes, where a convent would be founded in 1295. Freydís, the sister
of Leifr Eiríksson, is presented quite differently in the two sagas: in ES she
accompanies her husband across the sea and, heavily pregnant, scares off
Native Americans who attack the new arrivals. In GS she herself organizes
an expedition and first cheats her partners, then contrives their murder and,
when her male companions refuse to do so, kills their wives. The baptism
of Leifr Eiríksson is not mentioned in ES, which is unique in its mention
of unipeds, whose presence indicates that Vínland was considered to be an
outcrop of Africa, where such a race was believed to be found.

26

These are

only the most striking differences between the two sagas, and it is hardly
surprising that attempts to derive one from the other have not met with
success.

It is unfortunate that the work of the premier scholar of these works,

Ólafur Halldórsson, has gone largely unnoticed because it has been published
in Icelandic. His conclusions have appeared in English in a recent conference
volume. It is regrettable that his reasoning is not also accessible (among other
things, he argues that the discovery and conversion of Greenland took place
about fifteen years later than is generally claimed – contradicting an explicit
statement in the Book of the Icelanders).

27

However, his article lists eleven

points of agreement between the sagas which he considers, to my mind
correctly, to derive independently from oral traditions about the events.

28

Building on these traditions, two authors have produced two exciting
narratives, GS which is, according to Ólafur, primarily about exploration,
and ES which, following a suggestion made by Halldór Hermannsson in
1936, should be better named the “saga of Guðríðr Þorbjarnardóttir.”

29

The

sagas differ significantly in their treatment of their common core of tradition,
and neither is necessarily more “accurate” than the other. Indeed, a
comparison of attitudes towards women and/or gender in ES and GS is a
valuable classroom exercise which can serve as a cogent warning against
taking saga extracts out of context.

In conclusion, let me mention a source that has recently been invoked

in support of the reliability of the sagas: archeology. Although the history
of attempts to excavate saga sites for evidence of Viking remains has been
characterized largely by failure,

30

recent infusions of funding have led to

major progress at many locations, both famous ones and others not

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mentioned in the sagas. In 1984, the physician Þórður Harðarson published
an article pointing out that the description of Egill Skallagrímsson found in
Egils saga could be interpreted as reflecting the symptoms of Paget’s disease.

31

This suggestion prompted UCLA professor Jesse Byock to organize an
excavation of Hrísbrú, where Egill’s bones once lay. The results have proved
extremely rewarding.

32

To put the excavation in context it is worth quoting

the relevant passage from the saga, which was probably written early in the
thirteenth century. Egill spent his last days with his niece and step-daughter,
Þórdís, and her husband, Grímr:

When he was dead Grímr had him dressed in good clothes. Then he had him
taken down to Tjaldanes and made a mound there. Egill was laid in the mound
with his weapons and clothing. Grímr at Mosfell was baptized when Christianity
became the law in Iceland [1000]. He had a church built there. Men say that
Þórdís had had Egill moved to the church, and an indication of this is that when
a church was built at Mosfell later, and that church which Grímr had built at
Hrísbrú was pulled down, the churchyard was dug up. They found a man’s bones
under the altar. they were bigger by far than the bones of other men. People
thought they could tell from the stories of old men that these would be the bones
of Egill.

33

Tjaldanes is at some distance from Hrísbrú, but the excavation at Hrísbrú

itself has produced both a pre-Christian grave-mound (with evidence of
the first attested cremation in Iceland) and the remains of a church. The
graveyard contains evidence of bones being moved both to and from the
church, though plenty of skeletons remain; the prescriptions of Grágás that
those transferring the contents of a graveyard should “search for bones as
they would for money if that was what they expected to find there” were
not followed.

34

It may strike a medieval historian that the large, empty grave

under the chancel is more likely to have contained the remains of the founder
of the church than those of the founder’s wife’s heathen uncle (the saga tells
us that Egill had been prime-signed, a sort of preliminary rite to baptism,
but never actually baptized). However, the close proximity of a heathen
mound (not mentioned in the saga) and a church are reminiscent of the
similar juxtaposition at the royal site at Jelling, Denmark, where it appears
that the remains of a heathen king were, in fact, removed to the church by
his Christian son,

35

perhaps in the hope that the new location would benefit

him in the afterlife. Of possible relevance to the religious meaning of the
site is the presence of a nearby hill called Helgafell (holy mountain).

But what, exactly, does this find confirm? That the removal of a church

in the mid-twelfth century should be recalled less than a hundred years after
the event is well within the bounds of what oral tradition can be expected
to retain, as may be the fact of a famous individual being buried there a
century or more earlier, even if the details have become a bit confused with
the passage of time. Ari Þorgilsson’s chain of informants for the conversion
of Iceland extends over a century, and Gísli Sigurðsson cites his
grandmother’s detailed knowledge of her family genealogy for over two

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211

hundred years.

36

But do her references to family members “as if known to

her personally” reflect accurate knowledge or skilful story-telling? Would
we be justified in accepting her account of the culture or local politics of
the eighteenth century?

The excavation at Hrísbrú has confirmed the approximate date of the first

church there around the turn of the millennium. But does this confirmation
justify us in accepting the accounts in Egils saga of (for example) the
relationships of Egill’s ancestors with Norwegian kings in the ninth century?

37

The same question may be asked concerning the feuds, constitutional details,
and attribution of motive – or mentalité more generally – found in this and
other sagas. Those interested in what the sagas have to say about society or
ideology should ask themselves whether they would use Shakespeare’s plays
(or Holinshed’s chronicles) as accurate sources for the fourteenth century –
or the sixteenth.

So – how should we read a saga? Can we rely, at all, on our intuitions

about the situations described in these works? In chapter 2 of her Introduction
to Old Norse-Icelandic Literature, Heather O’Donoghue presents episodes from
two sagas, Gísla saga and Njáls saga, which modern readers are likely to
misinterpret precisely because the scenes appear to be immediately
comprehensible on their own terms. In fact, as she shows, it is necessary to
understand many aspects of medieval Icelandic culture in order to appreciate
what these scenes may have conveyed to a medieval reader. A helpful
introduction to the family sagas is Vésteinn Ólason’s Dialogues with the Viking
Age, which contains a welcome account of female characters who are not
viragos. Roberta Frank’s “Marriage in Twelfth- and Thirteenth-century
Iceland” remains unsurpassed. Those interested in paganism and the
conversion should first read Bernadine McCreesh’s “Structural Patterns in
the Eyrbyggja Saga and other sagas of the Conversion,” while Joseph Harris’s
“Saga as Historical Novel” should be required reading in order to understand
how the “conversion moment” informs the family sagas as a whole.
Theodore Andersson’s recent Growth of the Medieval Icelandic Sagas restates
the question of oral vs. literary tradition and uses sagas of approximately
known date to trace the literary treatment of orally preserved information
from the first attempts at authorship to literary masterpieces such as Njáls
saga. As mentioned above, Miller’s Bloodtaking and Peacemaking is an
indispensable introduction to saga society – whatever its relationship to the
lives of historical Icelanders may be. For information about individual sagas
or manuscripts, see Medieval Scandinavia: An Encyclopedia.

Short Biography

Margaret Cormack is Associate Professor of Religious Studies at the College
of Charleston, South Carolina. She has published The Saints in Iceland:Their
Veneration from the Conversion to 1400 (Société des Bollandistes, 1994) and
edited two volumes on the cult of saints: Sacrificing the Self: Perspectives on

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Martyrdom and Religion (Oxford University Press, 2002) and Saints and Their
Cults around the Atlantic (University of South Carolina Press, 2006). She is
currently working on a translation of the saga of an Icelandic bishop ( Jón
Ögmundarson of Hólar) and on a project to electronically record material
pertaining to the cult of saints in an accessible, on-line form. She has begun
to compile a database with relevant Icelandic material, which is part of a
larger project to record similar material throughout Europe. Her database
can be accessed at: www.tasc.mpg.de/iceland.

Notes

* Correspondence address: Margaret Cormack, 18 Short St, Charleston SC 29401, USA. Email:
[e-mail].

1

Sagas were sought after by the kings of Sweden and Denmark for the light it was hoped they

could shed on the early history of those countries. The manuscript collector, Árni Magnússon
(1663–1739), appears to have been the first to question their historicity, but his remained a minority
position until the advent of critical historicism in the early twentieth century. Ólafur Halldórsson,
“The Vínland Sagas,” in A. Wawn and Þórunn Sigurðardóttir (eds.), Approaches to Vínland
(Reykjavík: Sigurður Nordal Institute, 2001), 39.

2

See Jón Viðar Sigurðsson, Chieftains and Power in the Icelandic Commonwealth (Odense: Odense

University Press, 1999), 7–38; T. Andersson, The Problem of Icelandic Saga Origins. A Historical
Survey (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1964), 65–81.

3

The passage from “Advice to the Emperor” is quoted in G. Jones, A History of the Vikings

(Oxford/New York: Oxford University Press, 1984), 405; Gísli Sigurðsson, The Medieval Icelandic
Saga and Oral Tradition. A Discourse on Method (Cambridge, MA: The Milman Parry Collection
of Oral Literature, Harvard University, 2004), 256. The lengthy manuscript Morkinskinna (see
below) is devoted to the reigns of Harald harðráði and his nephew, Magnús Ólafsson.

4

S. Jansson, Runes in Sweden (London: Phoenix House, 1987), 76–77.

5

Ibid., 119.

6

Snorri Sturluson, Heimskringla. History of the Kings of Norway, trans. L. Hollander (Austin:

University of Texas Press for the American Scandinavian Foundation, 1964), 4.

7

The combination of prose and poetry appears to have characterized oral performances. By the

thirteenth century, poetry was clearly thought of as decorative in historical works such as the
components of Sturlunga saga, where it often has no better claim to accuracy than the prose. A
recent study by Bjarne Fidjestøl identifies skaldic poems which can be reliably dated to the reigns
of known kings. His article also provides valuable evidence for changing religious sensibilities as
reflected in this poetry. B. Fidjestøl, “Pagan Beliefs and Christian Impact: The Contribution of
Scaldic Studies,” in A. Faulkes and R. Perkins (eds.), Viking Revaluations (London: Viking Society
for Northern Research, 1993), 100–20.

8

Theodoricus Monachus, The Ancient History of the Norwegian Kings, trans. D. McDougall and I.

McDougall (London: Viking Society for Northern Research, 1998), 17. Olaf’s vita names Rouen
as the city in which he was baptized, but locates it in England. Conceivably the name of the city
is an addition derived from Theodoricus’s own research. The Icelandic Saga of Olaf Tryggvason has
the elder Olaf baptizing his younger namesake, presumably in Norway.

9

Jakob Benediktsson, “Landnámabók: Some Remarks on its Accuracy as a Historical Source,”

Saga-Book of the Viking Society, 17 (1966–69): 275–92.

10

Auður Ingvarsdóttir,“Sagnarit eða skrá? Staða Melabókar sem upprunalegustu gerðar Landnámu,”

Saga, 42/1 (2004): 91–119.

11

Adolf Friðriksson and Orri Vésteinsson, “Creating a Past. A Historiography of the Settlement

of Iceland,” in J. Barrett (ed.), Contact, Continuity and Collapse: The Norse Colonization of the North
Atlantic (Turnhout: Brepols, 2003), 139–61.

12

Jónas Kristjánsson, “Annálar og Íslendingasögur,” Gripla, IV (Reykjavík: Stofnun Árna

Magnússonar, 1980): 295–319.

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213

13

Beginning in the winter of 1117/18. The literary activity of the early twelfth century was

undoubtedly sponsored by the church, but its precise aims can only be guessed at.

14

English translations of these works have been included in the bibliography. The relationships

of the synoptic histories with each other, and with the later sagas about kings, has been presented
in English by Theodore Andersson, “Kings’ Sagas,” in C. Clover and J. Lindow (eds.), Old
Norse-Icelandic Literature: A Critical Guide (Ithaca/London: Cornell University Press, 1985;
Rpt. Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 2005), 197–238, and in his introduction to
Morkinskinna. The Earliest Icelandic Chronicle of the Norwegian Kings (1030–1157), trans. T. M.
Andersson and K. Gade (Ithaca/London: Cornell University Press, 2000).

15

P. Boulhosa, Icelanders and the Kings of Norway. Mediaeval Sagas and Legal Texts (Leiden/Boston:

Brill, 2005).

16

W. Miller, Bloodtaking and Peacemaking. Feud, Law, and Society in Saga Iceland (Chicago/London:

Chicago University Press, 1990), 43–51.

17

J. Jochens,“The Medieval Icelandic Heroine: Fact or Fiction?” Viator, 17 (1986): 34–50.

18

J. Jochens, “Consent in Marriage: Old Norse Life, Law, and Literature,” Scandinavian Studies,

58 (1986): 142–76.

19

Jón Viðar Sigurðsson, Chieftains and Power, 34.

20

Auður Magnúsdóttir, Frillor och fruar. Politik och samlevnad paa Island 1120 –1400 (Göteborg:

Historiska Institutionen, 2001).

21

S. Bagge, Society and Politics in Snorri Sturluson’s Heimskringla (Berkeley/Los Angeles/London:

University of California Press, 1991), 77.

22

For paganism in the sagas see J. Harris, “Saga as Historical Novel,” in J. Lindow, L. Lönnroth,

and G. Weber (eds.), Structure and Meaning in Old Norse Literature. New Approaches to Textual and
Literary Criticism (Odense: Odense University Press, 1986), 187–219.

23

Gísli Sigurðsson, Medieval Icelandic Saga, 42.

24

The Saga of the Slayings on the Heath, trans. K. Kunz, in The Complete Sagas of Icelanders, ed. Viðar

Hreinsson (Reykjavík: Leifur Eiríksson Publishing, 1997), 127. Vésteinn Ólason, Dialogues with
the Viking Age (Reykjavík: Heimskringla, 1998) with reference to Bjarni Guðnason, Túlkun
Heiðarvígasögu (Reykjavík: Bókmenntafræðistofnun Háskóla Íslands, 1993).

25

Hrafns saga Sveinbjarnarsonar, ed. Guðrún P. Helgadóttir (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1987), 1,

my translation. For prologues to Icelandic works, see Sverrir Tómasson, Formálar íslenskra sagnaritara
á miðöldum (Reykjavík: Stofnun Árna Magnússonar, 1988).

26

The Vinland Sagas, trans. Magnús Magnússon and Hermann Pálsson (London: Penguin, 1965),

39, 101–102.

27

Ólafur Halldórsson, “Vínland Sagas,” 46. In fact, his dating may only require the conversion

and/or the arrival of Guðríðr and Karlsefni at the later date.

28

Ibid., 48 –9. Ólafur would in fact trace these oral traditions to a written collection of materials

compiled in connection with the attempt to canonize Guðríðr Þorbjarnardóttir’s descendant,
Bishop Björn Gilsson of Hólar (d. 1162), at the end of the twelfth century, and some parts of his
“core” materials cannot date much before 1200.

29

Ibid., 42, with reference to Halldór Hermannsson, The Problem of Wineland (Ithaca: Cornell

University Press, 1936).

30

Adolf Friðriksson and Orri Vésteinsson, “Creating a Past,” 139–61; Adolf Friðriksson, Sagas

and Popular Antiquarianism in Icelandic Archaeology (Aldershot: Avebury, 1994).

31

Þórður Harðarson,“Sjúkdómur Egils Skallagrímssonar,” Skírnir, 158 (1984): 244–8.

32

J. Byock et al., “A Viking-Age Valley in Iceland. The Mosfell Archaeological Project,” Medieval

Archaeology, 49 (2005): 195–218. If Byock’s crew appears to have been incredibly lucky compared
to earlier archeologists, it should be pointed out that they had the advantages not only of modern
technology such as radar but of local placenames which, in fact, identified the sites: “Kirkjuhóll”
(church mound) and “Hulduhóll” (elf mound). Because of tabus concerning them, these grassy
mounds had not been levelled by modern agricultural machinery.

33

Egils saga, trans. C. Fell; poems trans. J. Lucas (London: J. M. Dent; Routledge, VT: Charles

E. Tuttle, 1975), 170–1. Names have been normalized to usage of this article.

34

Laws of Early Iceland: Grágás, trans. A. Dennis, R. Perkins, and P. Foote, vol. 1 ( Winnipeg:

University of Manitoba Press, 1980), 31.

35

E. Roesdahl, Viking Age Denmark (London: British Museum Publications, 1982).

36

Gísli Sigurðsson, Medieval Icelandic Saga, xvi.

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37

Most scholars would not go so far – indeed, current discussion of the saga has stagnated because

the assumption (to my mind, unproven) that Egils saga was written by Snorri Sturluson (d. 1240)
has prevented scholars from doing more than worry about when in Snorri’s lifetime it was most
likely to have been written, given his interactions with the Norwegian nobility. For discussion,
and critique of attempts to date the saga later, rather than earlier, in the thirteenth century
see M. Cormack, “Heimskringla, Egils saga, and the Daughter of Eiríkr Blóðøx,” Alvíssmál, 10
(2001): 69 –78. For more general methodological considerations see Boulhosa, Icelanders and the
Kings of Norway, 5 –42. For a brilliant presentation of the saga itself in its historical context, see
T. Andersson, Growth of the Medieval Icelandic Sagas (Ithaca: Cornell University Press, 2006),
102–18.

Bibliography

Note: Since the Library of Congress now alphabetizes Icelandic names by first name rather than

patronymic, I have chosen to write out such names in full.

Adolf Friðriksson, Sagas and Popular Antiquarianism in Icelandic Archaeology (Aldershot: Avebury,

1994).

Adolf Friðriksson and Orri Vésteinsson, “Creating a Past. A Historiography of the Settlement of

Iceland,” in J. Barrett (ed.), Contact, Continuity and Collapse: The Norse Colonization of the North
Atlantic (Turnhout: Brepols, 2003), 139–61.

Andersson,T., The Problem of Icelandic Saga Origins.A Historical Survey (New Haven:Yale University

Press, 1964).

Andersson, T., “Kings’ Sagas,” in C. Clover and J. Lindow (eds.), Old Norse-Icelandic Literature: A

Critical Guide (Ithaca/London: Cornell University Press, 1985; Rpt. Toronto: University
of Toronto Press, 2005), 197–238.

Andersson,T., Growth of the Medieval Icelandic Sagas (Ithaca: Cornell University Press, 2006).
Auður Magnúsdóttir, Frillor och fruar. Politik och samlevnad paa Island 1120 – 1400 (Göteborg:

Historiska Institutionen, 2001).

Auður Ingvarsdóttir, “Sagnarit eða skrá? Staða Melabókar sem upprunalegustu gerðar Landnámu,”

Saga, 42/1 (2004): 91–119.

Bagge, S., “Nordic Students at Foreign Universities until 1660,” Scandinavian Journal of History, 9

(1984): 1–29.

Bagge, S., Society and Politics in Snorri Sturluson’s Heimskringla (Berkeley/Los Angeles/London:

University of California Press, 1991).

Bjarni Guðnason, Túlkun Heiðarvígasögu (Reykjavík: Bókmenntafræðistofnun Háskóla Íslands,

1993).

Boulhosa, P., Icelanders and the Kings of Norway. Mediaeval Sagas and Legal Texts (Leiden and Boston:

Brill, 2005).

Byock, J., et al., “A Viking-Age Valley in Iceland: The Mosfell Archaeological Project,” Medieval

Archaeology, 49 (2005): 195–218.

Clover, C., and Lindow, J. (eds.), Old Norse-Icelandic Literature: A Critical Guide (Ithaca/London:

Cornell University Press, 1985; Rpt.Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 2005).

Cormack, M., “Heimskringla, Egils saga, and the Daughter of Eiríkr Blóðøx,” Alvíssmál, 10 (2001):

69–78.

Fidjestøl, B., “Pagan Beliefs and Christian Impact: The Contribution of Scaldic Studies,” in A.

Faulkes and R. Perkins (eds.), Viking Revaluations (London: Viking Society for Northern
Research, 1993), 100–20.

Frank, R., “Marriage in Twelfth- and Thirteenth-Century Iceland,” Viator, 4 (1973): 473–84.
Gísli Sigurðsson, The Medieval Icelandic Saga and Oral Tradition. A Discourse on Method (Cambridge,

MA/London: Harvard University Press, 2004).

Guðrún Nordal, Ethics and Action in Thirteenth-Century Iceland (Odense: Odense University Press,

1998).

Halldór Hermannsson, The Problem of Wineland (Ithaca: Cornell University Press, 1936).
Harris, J., “Saga as Historical Novel,” in J. Lindow, L. Lönnroth, and G. Weber (eds.), Structure

and Meaning in Old Norse Literature. New Approaches to Textual and Literary Criticism (Odense:
Odense University Press, 1986), 187–219.

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.

215

Jakob Benediktsson, “Landnámabók: Some Remarks on its Accuracy as a Historical Source,”

Saga-Book of the Viking Society, 17 (1966–69): 275–92.

Jansson, S., Runes in Sweden (London: Phoenix House, 1987).
Jochens, J., “Consent in Marriage: Old Norse Life, Law, and Literature,” Scandinavian Studies, 58

(1986): 142–76.

Jochens, J., “The Medieval Icelandic Heroine: Fact or Fiction?” Viator, 17 (1986): 34–50.
Jochens, J., “The Politics of Reproduction: Medieval Norwegian Kingship,” American Historical

Review, 92/2 (April 1987): 327–49.

Jón Viðar Sigurðsson, Chieftains and Power in the Icelandic Commonwealth (Odense: Odense University

Press, 1999).

Jónas Kristjánsson, “Annálar og Íslendingasögur,” Gripla, IV (Reykjavík: Stofnun Árna Magnússonar,

1980), 295–319.

Jones, G., A History of the Vikings (Oxford and New York: Oxford University Press, 1984).
McCreesh, B., “Structural Patterns in the Eyrbyggja Saga and Other Sagas of the Conversion,”

Mediaeval Scandinavia, 11 (1978–79): 271–80.

McTurk, R. (ed.), A Companion to Old Norse-Icelandic Literature and Culture (Malden/Oxford/

Victoria: Blackwell, 2005).

Meulengracht Sørensen, P., The Unmanly Man. Concepts of Sexual Defamation in Early Northern

Society (Odense: Odense University Press, 1983).

Miller,W. I., Bloodtaking and Peacemaking. Feud, Law, and Society in Saga Iceland (Chicago/London:

University of Chicago Press, 1990).

O’Donoghue, H., Old Norse-Icelandic Literature.A Short Introduction (Malden, MA/Oxford/Victoria:

Blackwell, 2004).

Ólafur Halldórsson,“The Vínland Sagas,” in A.Wawn and Þórunn Sigurðardóttir (eds.), Approaches

to Vínland (Reykjavík: Sigurður Nordal Institute, 2001), 39–51.

Orri Vésteinsson, The Christianization of Iceland. Priests, Power, and Social Change, 1000–1300

(Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2000).

Pulsiano, P., et al., Medieval Scandinavia: An Encyclopedia (New York/London: Garland, 1993).
Roesdahl, E., Viking Age Denmark (London: British Museum Publications, 1982).
Ross, M. (ed.), Old Icelandic Literature and Society (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2000).
Rowe, E., “The Flateyjarbók Annals as a Historical Source,” Scandinavian Journal of History, 27

(2002): 233–42.

Rowe, E., The Development of Flateyjarbók. Iceland and the Norwegian Dynastic Crisis of 1389 (Odense:

University Press of Southern Denmark, 2005).

Sverrir Tómasson, Formálar íslenskra saganaritara á miðöldum (Reykjavík: Stofnun Árna Magnússonar,

1988).

Vésteinn Ólason, Dialogues with the Viking Age. Narration and Representation in the Sagas of the

Icelanders (Reykjavík: Heimskringla, 1998).

Whaley, D., “Miracles in the Sagas of Bishops: Icelandic Variations on an International Theme,”

Collegium Medievale, 7 (1994): 155–84.

Whaley, D., “A Useful Past: Historical Writing in Medieval Iceland,” in M. Ross (ed.), Old

Icelandic Literature and Society (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2000), 161–202.

Þórður Harðarson, “Sjúkdómur Egils Skallagrímssonar,” Skírnir, 158 (1984): 244–8.

EDITIONS AND TRANSLATIONS

For sagas of Icelanders, numerous excellent translations are available. Below I list translations of

kings’ sagas and other historical writings, as well as the occasional edition which has extensive
introductory material in English. Alphabetization is by author (when known) and by the title
or the saga of manuscript. I have alphabetized by name of translator when a single volume
contains more than one work.

Ágrip af Nóregskonungasögum, ed. and trans. M. Driscoll (London: Viking Society for Northern

Research, 1995).

Andersson, T., and Miller, W., Law and Literature in Medieval Iceland. Ljósvetninga Saga and

Valla-Ljóts Saga (Stanford: Stanford University Press, 1989).

Ari Thorgilsson, Íslendingabók.The Book of the Icelanders, trans. Halldór Hermannsson, Islandica XX

(Ithaca: Cornell University Press, 1930).

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The Book of Settlements, Landnámabók, trans. Hermann Pálsson and Paul Edwards (Winnipeg:

University of Manitoba Press, 1972).

Egils Saga, trans. C. Fell; poems trans. J. Lucas (London: J. M. Dent; Routledge, VT: Charles

E. Tuttle, 1975).

Fagrskinna.A Catalogue of the Kings of Norway, trans. A. Finlay (Leiden/Boston: Brill, 2004).
The Faroe Islanders’ Saga, trans. George Johnston (Canada: Oberon, 1975).
Hrafns saga Sveinbjarnarsonar, ed. Guðrún P. Helgadóttir (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1987).
Knytlinga Saga. The History of the Kings of Denmark, trans. Hermann Pálsson and Paul Edwards

(Odense: Odense University Press for the City of Odense, 1986).

Kunin, D. (trans.), A History of Norway and The Passion and Miracles of the Blessed Óláfr (London:

Viking Society for Northern Research, 2001).

Laws of Early Iceland: Grágás, trans. A. Dennis et al., 2 vols. (Winnipeg: University of Manitoba

Press, 1980 and 2000).

Morkinskinna.The Earliest Icelandic Chronicle of the Norwegian Kings (1030–1157), trans. T. Andersson

and K. Gade (Ithaca/London: Cornell University Press, 2000).

Oddr Snorrason, The Saga of Olaf Tryggvason, trans. T. Andersson (Ithaca/London: Cornell

University Press, 2003).

Orkneyinga Saga. The History of the Earls of Orkney, trans. Hermann Pálsson and Paul Edwards

(London: Penguin, 1981).

The Saga of the Slayings on the Heath, trans. K. Kunz, in The Complete Sagas of Icelanders, ed.Viðar

Hreinsson, vol. 4, (Reykjavík: Leifur Eiríksson Publishing, 1997).

Snorri Sturluson, Heimskringla. History of the Kings of Norway, trans. L. Hollander (Austin: University

of Texas Press for the American Scandinavian Foundation, 1964).

Sturlunga Saga, 2 vols., trans. J. McGrew and R. G. Thomas (New York: The American

Scandinavian Foundation, 1974).

Theodoricus Monachus, The Ancient History of the Norwegian Kings, trans. D. McDougall and I.

McDougall (London:Viking Society for Northern Research, 1998).

The Vinland Sagas, trans. Magnús Magnússon and Hermann Pálsson (London: Penguin, 1965).

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