plik

Journal of English and Germanic Philology—January

“Ancient Traditions” in Sverris saga:

The Background of an Episode in Sverris saga

and a Note on the Dating of Rómverja saga

Jonas Wellendorf, University of California, Berkeley

Hermann Pálsson, in his articles entitled “Bækur æxlast af bókum” and
“Boklig lærdom i Sverris saga,” argued that some episodes and expressions
found in Sverris saga had a learned background and were inspired by
Latin writings.

This position is both reasonable and plausible considering

what is known about the genesis of Sverris saga; in particular, that parts
of the saga, if not the entire saga, were written by Karl Jónsson, abbot of
the Benedictine monastery of Munkaþverá in Northern Iceland.

In this

article, I will show that Hermann Pálsson was too eager to assign learned
origins to aspects of the saga. Furthermore, it will be argued that his
best example, the references to forn minni (ancient traditions) and dœmi
hvatra manna (the examples of brave men) in an episode of the saga’s
nineteenth chapter, does not allude to an episode in Rómverja saga—in
turn derived from Lucan’s account of the Roman Civil War in De bello civili
(IV, ll. 402–581)—but rather to a Scandinavian (presumably Norwegian)
heroic legend. Hermann Pálsson’s thesis has generally been accepted and
cited with approval in recent scholarship on both Sverris saga and Rómverja
saga. Þorbjörg Helgadóttir writes: “There can be no doubt that the author
of Sverris saga knew Rómverja saga.”

In this article, I will cast doubt on this

assertion and show that none of the passages singled out by Hermann
Pálsson conclusively shows the author’s familiarity with Rómverja saga.
Section one presents the passages identified by Hermann Pálsson and
argues that it is inherently unlikely that the references to forn minni and
dœmi hvatra manna in Sverris saga refer to Latin tradition in the context in
which they occur. Section two offers a hitherto unnoticed parallel to the
episode under discussion in Saxo Grammaticus’s Gesta danorum and argues
that Saxo and Sverris saga both drew independently from Scandinavian

1. Hermann Pálsson, “Bækur æxlast af bókum,” Skírnir, 162 (1988), 35–50; “Boklig lærdom

i Sverris saga,” Maal og minne, 1991/1–2 (1991), 59–76.

2. The most recent editor of Sverris saga, Þorleifur Hauksson, Íslenzk fornrit, XXX (Reykja-

vík: Hið íslenzka fornritafélag, 2007) argues that Karl Jónsson wrote the entire saga.

Rómverja saga, ed. Þorbjörg Helgadóttir (Reykjavík: Stofnun Árna Magnússonar í íslensk-

um fræðum, 2010), p. cxcv. See also Sverris saga, ed. Þorleifur Hauksson, p. lxix.

heroic tradition. The final section briefly outlines the consequences of
this changed view on the background of the passage in Sverris saga for the
dating of Rómverja saga.

1. ANCIENT TRADITION AND THE EXAMPLES

OF BRAVE MEN

In Chapter 18 of Sverris saga, the narrator expresses concern that his ac-
count of Sverrir’s continued good fortune will give rise to disbelief among
the envious in his audience. Therefore, he attempts to put their skepticism
to shame by recounting Sverrir’s successes as well as his hardships. Victory
did not come easy to Sverrir and his men, the Birchlegs:

margan villistíg varð hann at troða ok hans menn áðr bæði væri rekit svá

margra ok stórra harma sem hann átti þeim feðgum at gjalda ok hann fengi

sína foðurleifð sótta af slíku stórmenni sem í mót var, en eigi meira liði en

hann hafði. (Sverris saga, p. 31)

(For many a wretched road had Sverri and his men to tramp, before he had

avenged the many grievous sorrows which he had to requite the King and his

father the Earl, and before he was able to win by the sword the inheritance

of his fathers from his powerful opponents with the small force at his com-

mand.) (The Saga of King Sverrir, p. 23)

“The difficult journey” has already become a recurring theme at this point
in the saga. It almost seems as if Sverrir suffers great woe and difficul-
ties every time he moves from one place to another, never managing to
bring or acquire food and appropriate clothing needed for subsistence.

However, the narrator insists that the hardships culminate in the journey
he is about to relate: “kom þó aldri svá mikill ákafi alls konar óhœginda,
bæði af mœði ok illviðri, svefnleysi ok matleysi, á hond Sverri konungi
sem í þessi ferð” (p. 31) (yet he never was so tried by weariness and bad

4. Unless noted, all Old Norse quotations from Sverris saga are from the recent Íslenzk

fornrit edition (ed. Þorleifur Hauksson, 2007). Translations of passages from Sverris saga

(when a page number is given) are based on J. Sephton, Sverris saga: The saga of King Sverri

of Norway (London: David Nutt, 1899). Sephton’s text is mainly based on the edition of

Sverris saga in Fornmanna sögur VIII (Copenhagen, 1835), and I have silently adapted the

translation of passages where the text of Fornmanna sögur differs from the Íslenzk fornrit

edition of Sverris saga.

5. Sverrir suffers great woe and difficulty (fekk mikit vás ok erfiði, p. 11) on a journey to

Eystra-Gautland, is lost for six or seven days in the wilderness on his journey to Vermland,

and suffers from both hunger and cold (p. 12). Sverrir and his men also suffer much hard-

ship, hunger, cold, and distress on a journey to Járnberaland (p. 20), and they face much

hardship on their journey through Herdalr, where they are forced to eat bark (p. 21) and

the sap of young pine trees and suck on birch wood (p. 22). At another point, Sverrir, ac-

companied by sixty men, travels for five days without eating or sleeping (p. 23).

Wellendorf

weather, by loss of sleep and want of food, as in the journey that he now
undertook [p. 23]).
At this point in the saga, Sverrir is in Læradalr in Norway and intends
to march for Bergen and take the city by surprise. At Vors, a large host
consisting of the peoples of Vors, Sogn, Harðangr, and Sunnhorðaland
surprises Sverrir and his men while dining, though Sverrir quickly gathers
his forces and manages to put the farmers to flight. In the ensuing pursuit,
a river with steep cliffs on each side separates the two groups. At nightfall,
Sverrir and the Birchlegs lose sight of their enemies and decide that it is
too dangerous to travel back to Vors—and that it is pointless to march for
Bergen because the Bergeners will now have heard that Sverrir is on his
way and can prepare themselves—so Sverrir decides to return to where he
came from. A heavy snow begins to fall, and the group suffers the loss of
120 horses with gilded saddles and many other valuables. They lose their
way and run out of provisions, and for seven days they eat nothing but
snow. The weather worsens—the narrator doubts that his audience will
believe this—and one man is hurled to the ground by the wind and dies
from a broken back. The rest of the men seek protection from the wind
by lying down in the snow under their shields. Sverrir’s guides give up,
and his men, exhausted as they are by hunger, cold, and the difficulties
in general, refuse to march any further. When the day breaks, they see
that they are at the edge of some steep cliffs. At this point, Sverrir’s men
have had enough:

Þá kom illr kurr á lið konungs. Sumir mæltu at þeir myndu ganga ofan fyrir

hamra ok þola eigi lengr svá mikla kvol, ok þá myndi skjótast um ráða. Sumir

mæltu at “meiri framkvæmð sýnisk oss til fornra minna at taka ok gera eftir

dœmum hvatra manna, þeira er sjálfir bárusk vápn á ok drápusk, heldr en

þeir vildi nauðir þola lengr.” (p. 34)

(Thereupon an evil murmur ran through the King’s host. Some declared

that they would suffer no longer, but leap from the rocks and bring their

severe torment to a speedy end. Others said, “We shall show more prowess

in calling to mind the deeds of old time, and in following the courageous

example of those who turned their weapons against one another, and met

death at each other’s hands rather than endure misery.) (trans. pp. 25–26)

The exhausted Birchlegs recall ancient traditions (forn minni [deeds
of old time]) of brave men who preferred mutual mass suicide to endur-
ing misery. Hermann Pálsson argues that this old tradition is derived via
Rómverja saga from Lucan’s De bello civili.

An episode in Rómverja saga tells

of a large group of Caesar’s soldiers who are trapped on a mountain on
the Adriatic coast. They are surrounded by enemy soldiers (i.e., Pompey’s

6. Hermann Pálsson, “Bækur æxlast af bókum,” pp. 43–46; “Boklig lærdom i Sverris saga,”

pp. 61–64.

“Ancient Traditions” in Sverris saga

men) and suffer great hunger.

Caesar’s men attempt to escape on four

improvised rafts, but the last raft, under the leadership of a certain Vul-
teius, is stopped by Pompey’s men. They fight valiantly, and luckily dark-
ness soon forces their enemy to retreat. Vulteius and his men spend the
night on the raft knowing that they are vastly outnumbered and that the
following day will be their last: “þá Julíús menn sá hversu mjog þeim var
þrongt, þá gerðisk kurr mikill í liðinu” (when the men of Julius [Caesar]
realized how great their difficulties were, great murmur ran through
the host).

At this point Vulteius holds an elaborate speech in which he

makes the startling claim that because they can no longer honorably avoid
death—begging for mercy being the only way to save their lives—death
by their own hands will earn them more fame than death in battle. Vul-
teius’s somewhat twisted argument is that the group is not in the middle
of a chaotic battle where no one will notice their suicidal valor, as they
are on the raft and visible to foes as well as friends. The gods want them
to show an example of death that will earn them fame, and it is pointless
to fight against a superior force:

Eigi er sem vér sém á velli sléttum í fjolmennum bardaga þar er engi kunni

vátta vár skipti. Munu goðin vilja at vér gefim þau dœmi dauðans er oss sé

frægð í fyrir því at neytt hofum vér vápnanna meðan kostr var at berjask.

(It is not as if we are on a wide field in a crowded battle, where no one will

be able to witness our deeds. The gods will want us to show an example of

death that will earn us fame for we have used our weapons while it was pos-

sible to fight.)

A mutual suicide thus staged will be a spectacular death. Vulteius’s men
rejoice, and at daybreak they reject a peace offer from Pompeius and fight
valiantly for a while, but then to the surprise of their enemy:

rétti hann [Vulteius] fram halsinn ok bað sik hoggva þann mann er honum

var næstr. En er hann fell, þá hjuggusk þeir brœðr ok frændr hverr sinn hinn

kærasta vin, ok fekk Vulteius þann dauða ok hans lið er hann mundi kjósa

. . . varð þeira manna fall náliga frægt um allan heim.

(Vulteius uncovered the neck and asked that man who was closest to him to

put him to death. And when he fell, brother and relatives each put his dearest

friend to death, and Vulteius and his men obtained the death of their choice

. . . the deaths of these men became famous almost throughout the world.)

7. “[V]arð hann [Caesar’s troops personified by their general Antonius] lengi um setinn

ok kreptr miklum sult” (Rómverja saga, p. 283, upper text) (He was surrounded for a long

period and pressed by great hunger). All quotations from unnormalized editions have

silently been normalized. Translations from Rómverja saga are my own.

Rómverja saga, ed. Þorbjörg Helgadóttir, p. 285, upper text.

Rómverja saga, ed. Þorbjörg Helgadóttir, p. 286, upper text.

10.

Rómverja saga, ed. Þorbjörg Helgadóttir, p. 288, upper text.

Wellendorf

The original Latin version of this episode is presented with an appropri-
ate combination of pathos, horror, admiration, and graphic detail by
Lucan and is justly famous among classicists. A sizable body of scholar-
ship has grown around it, and scholars have pointed out parallels in
other works.

Particular attention has also been given to the spectacular

staging of the mutual suicide: “Vulteius [in De bello civili] thinks of death
as a performance. Spectators are thus essential if the performance is to
have meaning.”

There are a number of parallels between this episode from Rómverja saga
and the passage from Sverris saga, some of which are even verbal. Hermann
Pálsson draws attention to the word kurr

and the use of medio-passive

verbal forms: at vér vegimsk sjálfir in Rómverja saga and sjálfir bárusk vápn
á ok drápusk in Sverris saga. Both groups are also hard pressed by hunger.
Sverrir’s men are forced to eat snow, and in Rómverja saga it is stated that
Caesar’s soldiers suffered great hunger (krepptr miklum sult, p. 283), though
the description of their starvation is more elaborate in the Latin text in
which they are reduced to “uprooting desiccated grass from the earth with
their miserable teeth.”

However, these parallels do not necessarily show

that Sverris saga draws on Rómverja saga. Kurr is a word not uncommonly
used when groups of people are dissatisfied with something,

and using

a medio-passive verbal form is the most obvious when the text deals with
men killing each other and themselves. Equally or more important is that
the entire point of the mutual suicide in Rómverja saga is the display of
courage and the number of witnesses who can preserve the memory of

11. Some parallels are listed by Catherine Edwards, Death in Ancient Rome (New Haven,

CT: Yale Univ. Press, 2007), p. 40. A more extensive listing of instances of mass suicide in

classical literature is provided by Shaye J. D. Cohen, “Masada: Literary Tradition, Archaeologi-

cal Remains, and the Celebrity of Josephus,” Journal of Jewish Studies, 33 (1982), 385–405,

who takes his point of departure in Josephus’s description of the mass killing/suicide at

Masada in 73 bc in his Jewish war following two elaborate exhortatory speeches by Eleazar

(Josephus—The Jewish War: Books V–VIII, ed. and trans. H. St. J. Tackeray (Cambridge, MA.:

Harvard Univ. Press (1997 [first published 1928]), bk. VII, 320–36, 341–88.

12. Edwards, Death in Ancient Rome, p. 43.

13. Although he misquotes Rómverja saga, stating that it reads illr kurr (as Sverris saga)

rather than kurr mikill (Pálsson, “Boklig lærdom i Sverris saga,” p. 62).

14. “spoliarat gramine campum | miles et attonso miseris iam dentibus aruo | castrorum

siccas de caespite uolserat herbas” (IV, 412–14) (the soldiers robbed the field of its plant

and, after having shorn the field, the unhappy men are now uprooting desiccated grass from

the earth with their miserable teeth [ed. and trans. Paolo Asso, A Commentary on Lucan, “De

Bello Civili” IV, Texte und Kommentare, 33 (Berlin: De Gruyter, 2010), pp. 68–69]).

15. The online material provided by the Dictionary of Old Norse Prose contains a large

number of examples of this (e.g., gerisk nú illr kurr í liðinu and nú gerisk illr kurr í liðinu, both

from Alexanders saga), gerðisk illr kurr í þeim Gautunum (from Hrólfs saga Gautrekssonar), síðan

kemr kurr mikill í lið þeirra (from Laxdœla saga), etc., http://onp.hum.ku.dk (accessed Oct

7, 2013).

“Ancient Traditions” in Sverris saga

their courage. Sverrir and the Birchlegs are lost in a blizzard far out in the
Norwegian wilderness. The central argument of the act being a display of
courage is completely lost, as only their God will witness their bravery and
he will—as Sverrir points out when he dissuades his men from suicide—
disapprove: “[V]ér erum kristnir menn ok kristinna manna born, ok vitum
vér at sá maðr er sér ræðr sjálfr bana á enga ván til Guðs” (p. 34) (We are
Christians, the children of Christians, and know that whosoever inflicts
death upon himself has no hope in God [p. 26]). Furthermore, Caesar’s
soldiers have the option to fight, surrender, or commit suicide, while the
Birchlegs only have two options because snowstorms take no prisoners.
The analogy between the two episodes is, therefore, false. If one, in spite
of all this, still wishes to entertain the idea that the references to forn minni
and dœmi hvatra manna in Sverris saga are inspired by Rómverja saga, one
can approach the matter from another angle: Sverrir was a populist.
The early part of Sverris saga reads much like a fairy tale, and the narra-
tor underlines this by explicitly comparing Sverrir’s situation to old tales
in which royal children were cursed by their stepmothers (konunga born
urðu fyrir stjúpmœðra skopum, p. 12). On one occasion Sverrir characterizes
himself as “a mean and lowly man” (einn lítill maðr ok lágr) who has come
“from the outlying islands” [i.e., the Faroe Islands] and who is finally
victorious against all odds and gains what is his by right.

According to

his saga, he has largely his own cleverness, excellent leadership, and the
help of God and the Virgin Mary to thank for his success. In one article,
Ármann Jakobsson argued that this fairy-tale-like story of unlikely rec-
ognition against all odds is one of Sverris saga’s strongest arguments for
Sverrir’s right to kingship.

To begin with, Sverrir is completely on his

own—he leaves home with the knowledge that he is the son of the king
(or so it seems) and with a piece of bad advice from his foster father;
namely, to seek out the archbishop in Niðaróss. The reader learns that
Sverrir did have a clerical ordination, but he did not seek his identity
in the clergy or in the learning that followed the clerical training, and
at one point he states that he was: eigi vel til fœrr at vera prestr (p. 6) (not
well suited to be a priest) (p. 3).

His opponents, on the other hand,

unhesitatingly identify him with the learned clergy and often refer to
him as Sverrir prestr (Priest Sverrir) (e.g., p. 55), or in one instance even

16. “Guð sendi útan af útskerjum einn lítinn mann ok lágan at steypa þeira ofdrambi,

en sá maðr var ek” (p. 153) (God sent from the outlying islands a mean and lowly man to

bring down their pride. I was that man’ [p. 124]).

17. Ármann Jakobsson, “Sinn eiginn smiður: Ævintýrið um Sverri konung,” Skírnir, 179/1

(2005), 109–39: “Sagnalistin er notuð og ævintýrið um Sverri gerir rökin nánast óþörf því

að ævintýrið hefur eigin innri rökvísi sem stenst flest áhlaup,” p. 113.

18. On an earlier occasion, the saga tells that he “samði . . . sik lítt við kennimannsskap”

(p. 5) (did not shape himself to priesthood [p. 2]).

Wellendorf

djofulsprestr þessi (p. 58) (that devil’s priest) (p. 47). It is quite clear that
the epithet priest is not a term of respect used as an acknowledgement
of his clerical background, but one of abuse employed as a denial of his
royal claims. On one occasion, King Magnús Erlingsson makes a speech to
great applause in Tunsberg, and after the speech, everyone declares that
they will follow the king because “betra væri at deyja með honum, réttum
konungi, en þjóna þeim presti er enga ætt átti til at vera konungr” (p.
129) ([it would be] better to die with him, a rightful King, than serve that
priest who had no title by birth to be King [p. 105]). Given the populist
image that Sverrir cultivated, it is unlikely that he or Karl Jónsson, the
learned Icelander who presumably wrote this part of Sverris saga, would
flash Latin learning and include offhand allusions to stories few people
in Sverrir’s audience would have recognized.
A somewhat similar argument can be made concerning the Birchlegs
themselves: Sverris saga makes it quite clear that the men who initially
gather around Sverrir are vagrants, outcasts, and robbers who are primar-
ily interested in plundering farmers (p. 19). Many of them are unfit for
battle, even though the arduous journeys weed out the most inadequate.
The kings’ saga Heimskringla explains why they were given the name Birch-
legs (this is before Sverrir becomes their leader): “Þeir . . . lágu longum
í eyðimorkum. Gengu þá klæði af þeim, svá at þeir spenntu næfrum um
fótleggi sér. Þá kolluðu bœndr þá Birkibeina” (They . . . camped for a long
time in the wilderness. Then their clothes fell off them, so that they tied
birchbark about their calves, whence the farmers called them Birchlegs).

Considering the background of the Birchlegs, it seems quite unlikely that
they would have entertained themselves with accounts of the Roman Civil
War and Latin literature in between forays, though this possibility can-
not, of course, be entirely excluded. A rejection of the connection with
Rómverja saga in Chapter 19 of Sverris saga therefore depends on whether
a more convincing frame of reference for the Birchlegs, Sverrir, or Sverris
saga can be found. The next section presents one such.

2. ANOTHER PARALLEL

Hermann Pálsson claimed that Sverris saga’s expression til fornra minna
at taka “viser tydelig at forbildet er hentet fra en skreven kilde som kaltes
‘forn’ sist på 1100-tallet.”

Contrary to Hermann Pálsson, I see no reason to

19.

Heimskringla I–III, ed. Bjarni Aðalbjarnarson, Íslenzk fornrit, XXVI–XXVIII (Reykjavík:

Hið íslenzka fornritafélag, 1941–1951), III, 411. Trans. Lee M. Hollander, Heimskringla:

History of the Kings of Norway (Austin: Univ. of Texas Press, 1964), p. 815.

20. Hermann Pálsson, “Boklig lærdom i Sverris saga,” p. 62.

“Ancient Traditions” in Sverris saga

reject the idea that Sverris saga here alludes to oral tradition,

albeit an oral

tradition only known in a written form today. In this section, I point to an
episode in Saxo Grammaticus’s Gesta danorum that might indeed be a written
instance of the forn minni referred to by the Birchlegs. So far this episode
does not appear to have been connected with Sverris saga. Gesta danorum
and Sverris saga are roughly contemporary.

It is possible that the author

of the one text knew the text of the other, but this seems unlikely. Once
the central episode is presented, it will be argued that both texts reflect a
legend that circulated orally in the second half of the twelfth century and
in the beginning of the thirteenth century and was considered forn minni.
The episode in question can be found in book 5 of Gesta danorum, a book
that is exclusively devoted to the long reign of King Frotho.

He ruled,

according to Saxo, at the time when “our Savior endured the assumption
of mortal garb and came to the earth to redeem mankind.”

Book 5 is

the longest (and perhaps most confused) of nine books devoted to the
legendary past in Gesta danorum. Saxo prolongs his narrative of Frotho’s
reign by including a wealth of material that is unrelated to the main story of
Frotho’s reign, strictly speaking; Hermann speaks of Einschübe.

These inser-

tions include material that parallels well-known episodes from Old Norse
vernacular literature, including the so-called Hloðskviða in Hervarar saga,
the story of the battle on Sámsey in Orvar-Odds saga and Hervarar saga, the
story of the Hjaðningavíg in Snorra Edda, and a story of an attempted grave
robbery that is also told in Egils saga einhenda.

In the first part of the book

(5.1.1–5.3.36), Saxo focuses on the interactions of a young Norwegian from

21. Oral tradition is indeed referred to as forn minni in Snorri Sturluson’s Háttatal, ed.

Anthony Faulkes, Snorri Sturluson: Háttatal, 2nd ed. (London: Viking Society for Northern

Research, 2007), p. 10; and in two manuscripts of Den store saga om Olav den Hellige: bæði forn

minni ok ný, ed. Oscar Albert Johnsen and Jón Helgason, Saga Óláfs konungs hins helga—Den

store saga om Olav den Hellige efter pergamenthåndskrift i Kungliga Biblioteket i Stockholm Nr. 2 4to

med varianter fra andre håndskrifter (Oslo: Jakob Dybwad, 1941), I, 1 app.

22. Saxo Grammaticus is now believed to have wrapped up his work in 1208. See Karsten

Friis-Jensen, “When Did Saxo Grammaticus Finish his Gesta Danorum? A Discussion of Its

Terminus ante quem,” in The Creation of Medieval Northern Europe: Essays in Honour of Sverre Bagge,

ed. Leidulv Melve and Sigbjørn Sønnesyn (Oslo: Dreyer, 2012), pp. 316–21. Sverris saga is

believed to have been completed not long after the death of King Sverrir (in 1202).

23. This Frotho, the third of the five Frothos in Gesta danorum, was the son of Fridlevus.

24. Saxo Grammaticus, Gesta Danorum—Danmarkshistorien, ed. Karsten Friis-Jensen, (Dan-

ish) trans. Peter Zeeberg (Copenhagen: De Danske Sprog- og Litteraturselskab, 2005),

sec. 5.15.3. English translation by Peter Fisher, Saxo Grammaticus: The History of the Danes

(Cambridge: D. S. Brewer, 1979), I, 157.

25. Paul Hermann, Die Heldensaga des Saxo Grammaticus, vol. 2: Erläuterungen zu den ersten

neun Bücher der dänischen Geschichte des Saxo Grammaticus (Leipzig: Wilhelm Engelmann,

1922), p. 320.

26. These parallels are quite obvious to readers familiar with both Saxo and the Old

Norse texts and have been treated in some detail by Axel Olrik, Kilderne til Sakses oldhistorie.

En litteraturhistorisk undersøgelse (Copenhagen: Gad, 1894), II; Hermann, Die Heldensaga des

Saxo Grammaticus; and also in more recent scholarship.

Wellendorf

the island of Rennesøy in Boknafjorden (a few miles North of Stavanger) by
the name of Ericus disertus (Erik the Eloquent) with the Norwegian King
Gøterus and King Frotho III of Denmark.

In the last segment of this story,

Ericus and his brother Rollerus sail back to Norway after having befriended
the Danish king, reforming his morally depraved court, and marrying his
daughter (Ericus) and his repudiated wife (Rollerus). The Norwegian king
Gøterus, upon learning this, wishes to marry Ericus’s wife and offers Ericus
his own daughter instead. This triggers a chain of events too complicated
to summarize at this point, the outcome of which is that Ericus, Rollerus,
their wives, and Gøterus’s daughter flee the royal residence in the middle
of the night. Gøterus, having been fooled into believing that he is under
attack, flees as well while Ericus’s stepfather plunders his residence (5.3.35).
The next morning, Gøterus thinks of nothing but revenge. He sets out but
is caught in bad weather:

Enauigans autem rex peruenit in portum, qui nunc ab Ømi uocabulum

tenet. Ubi aduersa tempestate oborta alimentis defectus satius arbitratus est

moriendi necessitatem ferro subire quam fame. Itaque nautici manu in se

ipsos uersa alternis uulneribus accelerauere fatum. Rex cum paucis montium

prerupta secutus elabitur. Indicium cladis colles editi prebent.

(Gøtar sailed off and put in at the habour which is now called Ømi. Rough

weather blew up and they ran out of food. He decided it would be better to

meet certain death by the sword rather than starvation, and therefore his

sailors, turning their hands against themselves, hastened their ends by inflict-

ing mutual wounds, but the king and one or two others slipped away into the

precipitous mountains. Lofty barrows still indicate the scene of the slaughter.)

Gøtarus dies a few pages later in a battle against the Danish king Frotho.
A few details in this account require comment. The island appears to
be uninhabited, and after becoming caught in bad weather, Gøtarus and
his men apparently have only two options: to take their own lives or die of
starvation. The king and a few of his men apparently have a third option,
and survive by running for the mountains. According to the translation,
it is the king who decides on the mutual suicide,

but it seems illogical

27. The most recent study on Ericus disertus appears to be by Joaquín Martínez Pizarro,

“An Eiríks þáttr málspaka? Some Conjectures on the Source of Saxo’s Ericus Disertus,” Saxo

Grammaticus: A Medieval Author between Norse and Latin Culture, ed. Karsten Friis-Jensen (Co-

penhagen: Museum Tusculanum, 1981), pp. 105–19. Pizarro does not discuss the episode

summarized here. Earlier studies are by Hermann, Die Heldensagen des Saxo Grammaticus,

pp. 325–40; and Olrik, Kilderne til Sakses oldhistorie, pp. 48–51. Scholars usually assume that

Saxo’s account of Ericus’s exploits is based on a lost Old Norse saga, and they refer to the

episode as Eiríks þáttr málspaka (thus Pizarro), Eiríks saga málspaka (thus Hermann), and Erik

den målspages saga (thus Olrik).

28. Ed. Friis-Jensen, Saxo Grammaticus: Gesta Danorum, sec. 5.3.35; trans. Fisher, Saxo Gram-

maticus: The History of the Danes, p. 140.

29. Thus, also Zeeberg’s Danish translation: “da forsyningerne slap op, besluttede han at

. . .” (In Saxo Grammaticus: Gesta Danorum, ed. Friis-Jensen, sec. 5.3.35).

“Ancient Traditions” in Sverris saga

that the king would run away if he himself had made the fatal decision
that the men should all kill one another. One might therefore consider
translating the Latin, satius arbitratus est moriendi, as an impersonal clause:
“it was decided that it would be better to die,” rather than “he decided it
would be better to die”—this would also align with the incident told in
Sverris saga. Alternatively, one could speculate that Gøtarus only survives
because he has to die in a battle against the Danish king Frotho a few
pages later in Gesta danorum.
The incident Saxo recounts here might well be a version of the forn
minni to which the Birkibeinar referred. Even if it does not contain any
obvious verbal parallels with the account in Sverris saga, the general cir-
cumstances are comparable. Gøtarus and his men are, like the Birkibeinar,
caught in bad weather and plagued by hunger, and their despondency
drives them to suicide. It is also far more likely that the intended audi-
ence of the saga would have understood the allusion if it did refer to an
incident set in the local legendary past rather than the Roman Civil War,
and neither Sverrir nor his Birkibeinar would have come off as elitist by
referring to events of which no one but the learned had heard. It might
be argued that the Norwegians in Saxo’s account are not presented as
hvatir menn (courageous men), but this might simply be explained by
Saxo’s Danish point of view. Saxo is, after all, portraying Gøtarus and his
men as enemies of his hero.
The stories of Ericus’s dealings with Gøtarus and the subsequent suicide
of the Norwegians are not recounted by other texts,

although there are

some parallels with Egils saga einhenda that I intend to explore in another
context. Old Norse texts do mention an Eiríkr málspaki connected with
Western Norway on a few occasions, but no stories are related about him.

The intricate story about the fooling of Gøtarus (not recounted above)
does not have any known exact parallels but contains a number of details
and motifs recalling the more stereotypical fornaldarsögur.

The story of

the mutual suicide is rather loosely connected with the main story, and
Saxo may have combined two or more separate stories into one.

In any

30. The Paris edition of Gesta danorum (the main source for Saxo’s text) usually prints

Gøtarus, but the forms Gøtherus and Gøtwarus are also found (see ed. Friis-Jensen, Saxo Gram-

maticus: Gesta Danorum, app. to 5.2.1 and 5.2.3).

31. Hermann, Die Heldensagen des Saxo Grammaticus, p. 339.

32. Hermann, Die Heldensagen des Saxo Grammaticus, p. 337–38.

33. Saxo’s rather free treatment of traditional Scandinavian material is well-known and can

perhaps be observed most easily in his reworking and recontextualization of the story about

the marriage of Njorðr and Skaði. Compare the mythological account in Snorra Edda, ed.

Finnur Jónsson, Edda Snorra Sturlusonar udgivet efter håndskrifterne (Copenhagen: Gyldendal-

ske boghandel, 1931), pp. 31–31 and 80–81, with Saxo’s historical account of the marriage

between King Hadingus and Regnilda, ed. Friis-Jensen, Saxo Grammaticus: Gesta Danorum, secs.

1.8.13, 1.8.19.

Wellendorf

case, the story bears the hallmarks of a stedssagn and it is therefore reason-
able to suppose that Saxo drew on an already existing legend. It is a story
of a single incident set in the past that is believed to be historical, and it
is connected with a specific location—the harbor Ømi.

Olrik identified

Ømi with the islet Eime, which belongs to the archipelago Kvitsøyane
(Old Norse Hvítingseyjar, in the mouth of the Stavanger fjord, due west
of Rennesøy).

Kvitsøyane are often identified with the islands called

Aumar in medieval sources,

but their identity is not beyond question. I

have no better candidate for an identification of Aumar (= Ømi?) than
Kvitsøyane, but it seems that the following skaldic stanza, attributed to
the eleventh-century poet Þórðr Sjáreksson, points to a location farther
to the North:

Sveggja lét fyr Siggju

sólborðs Goti norðan,

gustr skaut Gylfa rastar

Glaumi suðr fyr Aumar;

en slóðgoti síðan

sæðings fyr skut bæði,

hestr óð lauks fyr Lista,

lagði Kormt ok Agðir.

(The gunwale’s horse went tossing north of Sigg; a gust shot the steed of

Gylfi’s league south by Aumar. And afterwards the horse of the gull’s track

put both Kormt and Agdir past the stern; the leek-horse waded past Lister.)

This stanza, transmitted without its original context in Skáldskaparmál
where it is used as a source for ship-kennings, describes a sea voyage along
the southwestern part of the Norwegian coast. The word síðan ‘afterwards’
in the second half-stanza indicates that the localities mentioned in the first
half-stanza (Old Norse Sigg, Modern Norwegian Siggjo, a mountain on

34.

Ømi is given in the ablative case in Saxo’s text, but recent translations of Saxo and

their indices give Ømi as the dictionary form.

35. “. . . ud for fjorden [Stavangerfjorden] ligger øen Aumar, nu Eima (i stedlig udtale

Eime)” (Olrik, Kilderne til Sakses oldhistorie, p. 49). He explains: “Eime er den nordøstligste

(

ɔ: nærmest sejlvejen liggende) af småøerne omkring Hvitingsø” (p. 50, n.1). Jørn Sandnes

and Ola Stemshaug, Norsk Stadnamnleksikon, 4th ed. (Oslo: Samlaget, 1997) do not mention

Ømi, but they do not consider the coupling of ON Aumar and MN Eime convincing (under

the headwords Kvitsøy and Eime). The etymology of Eime is connected with Old Norse eimr,

while Aumar is considered cognate with Old Norse aumr and Modern Norwegian and Dan-

ish øm (See Per Hovda, Norske Fiskemèd: Landsoversyn og to gamle mèdbøker, Skrifter frå norsk

stadnamnsarkiv, 2 [Oslo: Universitetsforlaget, 1961], pp. 322–26).

36. The earliest dated attestation of the name appears to be a document issued from the

Lateran in 1146 that mentions insulas quae dicuntur Aumas cum ecclesia Sancti Clementis (DN

XII, no. 1), but only preserved in a copy from 1427 in Munkelivs brevbog.

37. Ed. Finnur Jónsson, Den norsk-islandske skjaldedigtning (Copenhagen: Gyldendalske

boghandel, 1908–1914), B I, 303; cf. A I, 329. Trans. Anthony Faulkes, Snorri Sturluson—

Edda, Everyman (London: J. M. Dent, 1987), p. 124–25.

“Ancient Traditions” in Sverris saga

the island of Bømlo, and Aumar) would have been passed before the ship
came to Listi, Kormt, and Agðir (Modern Norwegian Lister, Karmøy, and
Agder). If this is the case, Aumar should be located farther to the north,
somewhere en route from Bømlo to Karmøy.
The most interesting attestation of the name Aumar in Old Norse sources
is found in Hákonar saga Hákonarsonar in a passage that tells of how King
Hákon (much like King Gøtarus) lands on Aumar in a storm:

Þeir hofðu vii langskip, ok er þeir liðu Féeyjarsund, þá hvesti svá at varla var

váðhæft á kongsskipinu; kastaði fram seglinu á akkerisfleininn, ok reif seglit

svá at þat fell allt niðr í skipit, en skipit rak at boða. Hétu menn þá stórheitum,

þeir er á váru. En engi vænti sér undankomu, ok þat hugðu þeir er hjá sátu

at hvervetna mundi látask. En þá syndi Guð miklar jarteignir þvíat meðan

at leið boðanum, þá rak skipit ákafliga at boðanum (sic) ok svá síðan boðan

leið. En meðan skipit fór jafnframm boðanum þá rak með ollu ekki. Kongr

lagði til hafnar í eyjunum Aumum með mikilli nauð. Bátrinn var brotinn,

en rifit seglit ok at flestu ollu reiða hafði nokkut bilat.

(They had seven long-ships. And when they passed Freckeyrarsund then it

blew so hard that it was hardly possible to sail the king’s ship; the sail was

thrown forward on the anchor-fluke, and the sail was rent that it all fell down

into the ship. But the ship drove into the breakers. Then men who were

aboard of her made great vows; but no one thought that he would escape;

those who sat by (on shore) thought that every soul must be lost. But then

God showed great tokens; for while they were nearing the breakers the ship

drifted very fast, and so she drifted after the breakers were passed; but while

the ship ran alongside the breakers she did not drift an inch. The king ran

into the haven in the isle of Aum with great difficulty. The boat was stoven

in, but the sail rent, and all over her something had given way.)

However, King Hákon and his men do not despair, and if they recalled the
forn minni connected with the name Ømi (= Aumar?), the saga keeps silent
at this point.

When the storm had abated, they continued to Bergen.

Gesta danorum, Saxo presents a number of etiological legends that

explain the origin of particular features of the Northern landscapes. Some

38. Ed. A. Kjær, Den Arnamagnæanske Haandskrift 81a Fol (Skálholtsbók yngsta) indeholdende

Sverris saga, Boglunga sogur, Hákonar saga Hákonarsonar. Første og andet hefte (1910;

repr., Oslo: Den Norske Historiske Kildeskriftkommision, 1985), pp. 433–34. Trans. G. W.

Dasent, The Saga of Hacon and a Fragment of the Saga of Magnus with Appendices, Rerum bri-

tannicarum medii aevi scriptores, 88, Icelandic sagas 4 (London: Her Majesty’s Stationary

Office, 1894; New York: Kraus Reprint, 1964), pp. 126–27.

39. The various manuscripts of Hákonar saga agree that King Hákon lands at Aumar, but

differ when it comes to the other name. Above, the text from Skálholtsbók was quoted, but

Flateyjarbók has Frekeyjarsund instead of Féeyjarsund; Fríssbók has Eyjasund (sg.), Eirspennill

Eyjasund (pl.); and AM 304 4° has Eyrarsund. The reading Eyrarsund is from the edition

by Marina Mundt, Hákonar saga Hákonarsonar, Norrøne tekster, 2 (Oslo: Norsk Historisk

Kjeldeskriftinstitutt, 1977), p. 67. The other readings are from critical apparatus of Kjær,

Den Arnamagnæanske Haandskrift 81a Fol, p. 434n. The identification of the sound is, need-

less to say, uncertain.

Wellendorf

of these legends deal with grave mounds (e.g., at 3.3.8, 4.2.4, 6.3.3, and
9.5.6) that were still visible and identifiable in Saxo’s days. The account
of the mounds at Ømi is similar. These legends give information on the
incumbents of the mounds and relate some of the circumstances that
led to their deaths, and, in one instance—in the case of the mound of
Balderus (3.3.8)—Saxo relates the story of an attempted robbery of one
of these mounds. Because comparable legends can be widely found in the
material collected by folklorists in later times,

it is reasonable to assume

that Saxo’s account of Ømi is of a similar nature.

If this was indeed a Norwegian legend connected with a particular place,
it is reasonable to ask how Saxo could have learned of this information.
Definite answers cannot be given, but scholars have hypothesized about
Saxo’s sources for the material set in Norway. The most well-known theory
is perhaps Olrik’s theory of Norwegian skippersagaer (captains’ sagas). Saxo
explicitly mentions Icelandic informants, but great parts of his material
are connected with Norwegian localities or have other features that Olrik
deemed to be of Norwegian origin. He explained this apparent discrep-
ancy by arguing that Icelanders coming to Denmark would typically have
come via Norway where they would have travelled along the Norwegian
coast and picked up a number of stories from the captains of merchant
ships.

This would also explain why all Norwegian localities named in

Gesta danorum are found along the coast. Olrik singled out a particular
Icelander by the name of Arnoldus who was in Bishop Absalon’s retinue
in the late 1160s. The source for this is Gesta danorum (14.36.2), where
Arnoldus is described as being “skilled in the expert telling of stories
about the past” (sollerti historiarum narratione callebat).

Daae found Olrik’s

ingenious theory to be too complicated and suggested that Saxo himself
might have followed the Danish King Valdemar on his 1168 expedition
along the Norwegian coast.

In a later work, Olrik picks up on Daae’s

40. See Atle Omland, Stewards and Stakeholders of the Archaeological Record: Archaeologists,

Folklore and Burial Mounds in Agder, Southern Norway (Oxford: Archaeopress, 2010), pp.

151–78, for an archaeologist’s view on such material.

41. Many of these legends are migratory legends attached to more than one site. If Ømi

is indeed to be identified with Kvitsøy, Saxo’s legend is not well adapted to the geography

of that location. The islands are rather flat (their highest point being less that 30 meters

above sea level), and even though the islands contain at least three grave mounds (their

ID numbers are 24433, 34738, and 72044) in the Kulturminnesøk database (http://www

.kulturminnesok.no/ [accessed 1.16.2013]), a grave field of the size implied by Saxo’s ac-

count is nowhere to be found.

42. Olrik, Kilderne til Sakses oldhistorie, pp. 280–86.

43. Arnaldus is possibly identical with the Arnhallr Þorvaldsson whom Skáldatal lists among

the poets who composed in the honor of King Valdimarr Knútsson (i.e., Valdemar the Great,

d. 1182).

44. Ludvig Daae, “Nogle studier i Saxo Grammaticus,” [Norsk] Historisk tidsskrift, 4 (1907),

130–40.

“Ancient Traditions” in Sverris saga

idea and suggests that Arnaldus and Absalon followed Valdemar on the
expedition along the Norwegian coast. Arnaldus’s stories, as mediated
through Saxo in Gesta danorum, are therefore not “pure Icelandic tradi-
tion,” but have been mixed with what Olrik termed the “far more fertile”
tradition created in Southern Norway.

There is, however, no reason to suppose that Saxo relied on a single
Icelandic informant. Saxo must have worked on Gesta danorum for many
years, and situated as he was at the international hub of the Danish arch-
bishop in Lund, he would have had plenty of opportunities to speak to
people from various places. One possible informant is the Norwegian
Archbishop Eiríkr Ívarsson (r. 1189–1202). In 1190 after only one year
in office, Eiríkr had to flee his seat because he refused to consecrate King
Sverrir. The next twelve years he spent in exile with Archbishop Absa-
lon in Lund.

Incidentally, before being elected Archbishop of Nidaros,

Eiríkr had been bishop in Stavanger—only a few miles from Rennesøy and
Kvitsøy (= Aumar?). Eiríkr Ívarsson might therefore have been as good a
source as any travelling Icelander. As it happens, Eiríkr’s father appears
to have been an Icelander.

Determining how Saxo got hold of particular stories is often impossible,
and likely explanations are the best one can hope for. In this case, the
most plausible explanation appears to be that Gesta danorum and Sverris
saga both contain reflections of a story that circulated orally in Norway
at the time of writing.
Hermann Pálsson also identified a second parallel between Sverris saga
and Rómverja saga.

In this case, the similarities between the two passages

are only superficial. At one point in Sverris saga, King Sverrir and King
Magnús Erlingsson meet for peace talks in Niðaróss. The followers of both
kings meet as well and sit down and talk:

Menn Magnúss konungs hofðu róit nokkurum skútum upp í ána, en Birki-

beinar gengu ofan í mót þeim ok létu bera mungát ofan ór bœnum. Settusk

allir saman út á Brottueyri, drukku þar ok toluðusk við, þó at þeir væri í

tvennum flokkum. Þá váru þeir margir frændr eða mágar eða hofðu fyrr

verit vinir. (Sverris saga p. 94)

45. Axel Olrik, “Arnald Islænding,” Folkelige afhandlinger, ed. Hans Ellekilde (1911; repr.,

Copenhagen: Gyldendalske boghandel, 1919), pp. 81–95; “langt frodigere,” p. 89.

46. See Ólafía Einarsdóttir, “Erik Ivarson of Throndheim: Archbishop in Exile in Absa-

lon’s Lund, 1190–1202,” in International Scandinavian and Medieval Studies in Memory of Gerd

Wolfgang Weber, ed. Michael Dallapiazza et al. (Trieste: Edizioni Parnaso, 2000), pp. 367–81.

47. Karsten Friis-Jensen, “Saxo Grammaticus og fornaldarsagaerne,” in Fornaldarsagaerne:

Myter og virkelighed, ed. Agneta Ney, Ármann Jakobsson, and Annette Lassen (Copenhagen:

Museum Tusculanum, 2009), pp. 67–77, briefly mentions Eiríkr’s possible importance as

a transmitter of stories (p. 68).

48. Herman Pálsson, “Boklig lærdom i Sverris saga,” pp. 63–64.

Wellendorf

(King Magnus’s men had rowed some of their cutters into the river; and

the Birkibeins went down to meet them, and had ale brought out of the

town. They all sat down together on the Brottu-Eyri drinking and talking; for

though they belonged to two different bands, many in the one had kinsmen

or relatives in the other, or friends of old standing.) (trans. p. 71)

However, as the negotiations fail—not exclusively because of King Mag-
nús’s unyieldingness—the kings’ men begin to disagree as well: “ok svá
sem leið þeira tal þá reigðusk ok æ því meirr við liðsmenn þeir er samdryk-
kjuna heldu” (p. 98) (As the conference drew to a close, their followers
who were drinking together became more and more haughty towards one
another [p. 80]). It is a well-crafted episode. Both kings give speeches in
which they express their point of view and the atmosphere between the
kings has been effectively aligned with the ambience among their men.
At one point in Rómverja saga, two hostile armies are drawn up in battle
formation, but before the fight commences, the two armies “hofðusk orð
við ok stóð svá um hrið ok kenndusk at þar stóðu feðr ok synir ok brœðr
sér hvárir í fylking ok margir góðir vinir” (spoke with one another, and
it went on like that for a while, and they realized that fathers and sons,
brothers and many good friends, were in each other’s host).

This short

intermezzo is soon disrupted by Petregius, the commander (hofðingi) of
one of the hosts, who spurs his men to battle with a speech. The passage
in question is rather short in Rómverja saga, while Lucan waxes memorably
and with appropriate pathos on the theme of the horror of civil war (IV,
ll. 169–205).

Seen in isolation, the two scenes do have some similarities, but there
are no clear verbal parallels. The general impression of a resemblance
between the two texts is greatly reduced when considering the contexts in
which they appear, and in the absence of other clear textual links between
the sagas, the similarities could easily be coincidental.
It has been argued that the author of Sverris saga and Saxo indepen-
dently drew on Scandinavian oral tradition. The two instances where Her-
mann Pálsson argued that Sverris saga drew on Rómverja saga have been
rejected, and the links between Sverris saga and Rómverja saga thus appear
to be weak at best.

49.

Rómverja saga, ed. Þorbjörg Helgadóttir, II, 279, upper text.

50. E.g.: “Hospitis ille ciet nomen, uocat ille propinquum, | admonet hunc studiis con-

sors puerilibus aetas; | nec Romanus erat, qui non agnouerat hostem | arma rigant lacrimis,

singultibus oscula rumpunt” (IV, 176–81) (One man calls out the name of a friend, another

calls a relative; time shared in youth pursuits reawakens this man’s memory. There was no

Roman who did not recognize an enemy. Weapons are splattered with tears, they choke

kisses with sobbing [ed. and trans. Asso, A Commentary on Lucan, pp. 50–53]).

“Ancient Traditions” in Sverris saga

3. CONSEQUENCES

Above it was argued that Sverris saga’s allusion to forn minni does not refer
to Rómverja saga but to oral tradition circulating in Norway in the late
twelfth century. It was also argued that the other textual parallel between
Sverris saga and Rómverja saga is of no great significance once the verbal
parallel between the two sagas has been rejected. The consequence is that
there are no certain textual links between the two sagas. This changed
view of the relationship between Sverris saga and Rómverja saga is of some
consequence for the dating of Rómverja saga.
It is not an easy task to date anonymous sagas. In the case of Rómverja
saga, there is an earlier longer version (preserved in a single manuscript)
and a later abbreviated version (preserved in a number of manuscripts).
Comparisons between the two versions with the Latin texts on which they
are based (i.e., the works of Sallust and Lucan) have shown that the ar-
chetype of the preserved versions must have been even fuller than the
preserved longer versions.

When attempting to date Rómverja saga, one

endeavors to date a text no longer preserved, and Þorbjörg Helgadóttir’s
reasonable supposition that Rómverja saga came into being in stages only
complicates the issue further.

Meissner dated Rómverja saga to the second half of the thirteenth cen-
tury.

This rather late date has since been rejected, not least because

scholars noticed verbal parallels between Rómverja saga and Veraldar saga
(dated ca. 1190), and it seemed that Veraldar saga drew from Rómverja saga.
Hoffmann therefore dated Rómverja saga to ca. 1180.

Further parallels

have since been noticed in the fourteenth-century world chronicle of AM
764 4° and in Clemens saga, yet another early text. Þorbjörg Helgadóttir
prints all these passages in parallel columns and argues convincingly that
all four texts are independent of one another and draw on a common
source in the vernacular, a translation of a Roman summa historiae derived
from an Accessus ad Lucanum.

Hofmann’s main criterion for the dating of

51. Þorbjörg Helgadóttir, Rómverja saga, I, p. xxxiii; Rudolf Meissner, Rómveriasaga (AM

595 4°), Palaestra, LXXXVIII (Berlin: Mayer & Müller, 1910), pp. 148–52.

52. Þorbjörg Helgadóttir, Rómverja saga, I, pp. clxxxix–cxciv.

53. Meissner, Rómveriasaga, p. 160. A brief and clear overview of the various attempts at

dating the saga is provided by Stefanie Würth, Der “Antikenroman” in der isländischen Literatur

des Mittelalters: Eine Untersuchung zur Übersetzung und Rezeption lateinischer Literatur im Norden,

Beiträge zur Nordischen Philologie, 26 (Basel: Helbing & Lichtenhahn Verlag, 1998), pp.

35–37.

54. Dietrich Hofmann, “Accessus ad Lucanum: Zur Neubestimmung des Verhältnisses

zwischen Rómveria saga und Veraldar saga,” in Sagnaskemmtun: Studies in Honour of Hermann

Pálsson on his 65th Birthday, ed. Rudolf Simek, Hans Bekker-Nielsen, and Jónas Kristjánsson

(Wien: Böhlau, 1986), p. 148.

55. Þorbjörg Helgadóttir, Rómverja saga, I, pp. lxxxvi–cxii.

Wellendorf

the text is, therefore, no longer valid. On the basis of the parallels pointed
out by Hermann Pálsson, Þorbjörg Helgadóttir dates Rómverja saga more
broadly to the second half of the twelfth century;

that is before Sverris

saga. This argument is, as I have pointed out above, no longer valid.
When was Rómverja saga written? In determining a terminus ante quem
of the saga, the most secure date is provided by its oldest manuscript
(AM 595 a–b 4°), which is now dated to ca. 1325–1350.

Scholars also

agree that Alexanders saga was influenced by Rómverja saga.

This moves

the terminus ante quem to ca. 1280 (the date of the oldest manuscript of
Alexanders saga), or somewhat earlier if the traditional ascription of Alex-
anders saga to Brandr Jónsson, d. 1264, is accepted.

Firm criteria for an

earlier date have so far not been proposed. I will not advocate as late a
date as possible for the composition of Rómverja saga, but it seems to me
that the question of its dating must be considered reopened.

56. Þorbjörg Helgadóttir, Rómverja saga, I, pp. cxcv.

57. Þorbjörg Helgadóttir, Rómverja saga, I, pp. xxxiv; Jakob Benediktsson, Catilina and

Jugurtha by Sallust and Pharsalia by Lucan. In Old Norse: Rómverja saga AM 595 a–b 4°, Early

Icelandic Manuscripts in Facsimile, 13 (Copenhagen: Rosenkilde & Bagger, 1980), p. 15.

58. See Þorbjörg Helgadóttir, Rómverja saga, I, cxcvi–cxcviii, with references.

59. Recently, Jonathan Pettersson, Fri översättning i det medeltida Västnorden, Acta Universi-

tatis Stockholmiensis, n.s. 51 (Stockholm: Stockholms Universitet, 2009), 145, after having

analyzed the method of translation in Alexanders saga, concludes by suggesting that two

translators might have been at work in the saga.

“Ancient Traditions” in Sverris saga