Salisbury Cathedral

The Cathedral Church of the Blessed Virgin Mary, also known as Salisbury Cathedral, is noted for having the tallest church spire in England, but it has other notable qualities: the largest cloister, one of the oldest working clocks in the world, and one of four original copies of the Magna Carta.

There was already a gothic cathedral in Salisbury at Old Sarum, but a decision was made to construct a new church and move the cathedra, or bishop's seat, to Salisbury town. The bishop at the time was Richard Poore (died 15 April 1237), who lived almost to see the new building finished. Fees for construction came from canons and vicars of the diocese annually until the building was completed. (Legend that Bishop Poore shot an arrow that hit a deer, and where the deer died was chosen as the new site, cannot be substantiated.)

The first of its 70,000 tons of stone were laid down on 28 April 1220 by the 3rd Earl of Salisbury William Longespée, an  illegitimate son of King Henry II, and his wife. Remarkably for a structure of it size, it was completed in 38 years, which led to a consistency of design sometimes lacking in cathedrals that took generations and had multiple architects over time. It also took 3000 tons of timber and 450 tons of lead. The spire (a later addition, in 1320) and tower alone used 6400 tons of stone and would have collapsed like many other spires if not for the addition of buttresses and anchor plates (iron braces holding stones together). Sir Christopher Wren in 1668 added tie beams above the crossing (where the nave and apse intersect, above which stood the tower), which also helped.

The copy of the Magna Carta—incidentally the best preserved of the four surviving originals—came to Salisbury because one of the men given the task of distributing copies of the document, Elias of Dereham, was also a stonemason who oversaw the cathedral's construction and became a canon of Salisbury.

The famous clock, thought to be the oldest working clock in the world, has no face. Early clocks did not have hands; rather they noted the hour by ringing a bell. It was used regularly until 1884, when it was placed in storage and forgotten. Found again in 1928, it was restored in 1956 and works to this day.

I mentioned Bishop Richard Poore who oversaw most of the building of the cathedral. There is a statue of him in one of the many niches in the cathedral. He did arguably much more important work at Salisbury than building a new cathedral, which I'll tell you about tomorrow.

The Medieval Grotesque

The word grotesque does not appear in that form until the 1560s, though now it is used to refer to illustrations and carvings from much earlier eras. It is from Italian grottesca ("of a cave") from Italian grotto ("cave") because it was first used to refer to paintings found in basements in the ruins of Classical Era Rome, specifically the palace complex begun by Nero in 64CE that had been abandoned and buried long ago.

We see grottesca used in Italy in a 1502 contract in which Raphael Sanzio da Urbino (better known to the Modern Era simply by his first name) agrees to decorate the Piccolomini Library attached to Siena Cathedral.

Not everyone appreciated the fanciful designs. One artist complained about

this insatiable desire of man sometimes prefers to an ordinary building, with its pillars and doors, one falsely constructed in grotesque style, with pillars formed of children growing out of stalks of flowers, with architraves and cornices of branches of myrtle and doorways of reeds and other things, all seeming impossible and contrary to reason... [link]

We use the word to describe three-dimensional art such as gargoyles. If you wanted to categorize types of grotesques in two-dimensional art, you will often see hybrids such as the illustration to the left. Another type is a strange juxtaposition or anthropomorphism such as a rabbit jousting with lance and sword, using a hybrid snail for a horse.

Sculptural grotesques originally were used for waterspouts in medieval architecture, but became their own genre of architectural decoration. Despite the complaint noted above, folk like the monk who designed Salisbury Cathedral did not hesitate to add grotesque figures that had no function other than to provide decoration. Salisbury, in fact, shows a more consistent architectural style than most other cathedrals, owing to its swift completion: 38 years, as opposed to generations for most gothic structures. In fact, Salisbury Cathedral is a good subject for the next post. See you soon.

Gargoyles!

Large stone buildings intended to last for centuries, such as examples of Gothic Architecture, would be exposed to ages and ages of rainwater running down the sides and eroding the mortar. The solution was to devise a channel that would carry water away from the side of the building. The channel was thought of as a "throat" or "gullet" carrying water, and the French term for that was gargouille from the root gar "to swallow."

Not all gargoyles are waterspouts. In Italian architecture, a distinction is made between the carved creature used as a waterspout and called a gargolla or garguglia, and a carving designed simply to carry water away from the building, which is called gronda sporgente, literally "protruding gutter."

A late-14th century legend of St. Romanus explained the origin of the term as the name of a dragon; a good story, but pretty silly.

Long before the Romanus legend, Bernard of Clairvaux in the 12th century commented on gargoyles:

What are these fantastic monsters doing in the cloisters before the eyes of the brothers as they read? What is the meaning of these unclean monkeys, these strange, savage lions and monsters? To what purpose are here placed these creatures, half beast, half man or these spotted tigers? I see several bodies with one head and several heads with one body. Here is a quadruped with a serpent's head; there a fish with a quadruped's head; then again an animal: half horse, half goat... Surely, if we do not blush for such absurdities, we should at least regret what we have spent on them.

The origin of gargoyles that were not waterspouts is up for debate: Bernard doesn't seem to know why they were there. One theory is that they were illustrations of sin or evil, designed to make you glad you were a good Christian. Another thought is that they guarded the church.

If a carving of a creature was not a waterspout, it was a grotesque. The medieval grotesque needs its own explanation, which you will get tomorrow.

St. Romanus of Rouen

Among other events of which he was a part, Richard Barre also was present in 1179 in Rouen for the display of the body of the 7th century bishop of Rouen, St. Romanus. The Catholic Encyclopedia makes clear that the information we have on Romanus' life is legendary and not authentic. Since his reputation  is based on it, however, let us "go with what we have." His list of miracles makes for fun reading.

A woman named Félicité was sterile, but one day an angel appeared to her husband to say a child would be born in his house. The result was Romanus. He was sent to court to be educated; there he met St. Eligius. We then leap to his adulthood, where he becomes bishop of Rouen. He was also chancellor to the Merovingian king Clothar II.

His legend—found in four differing accounts—includes many miracles. When asked to eliminate a temple to Venus, he simply pulled the dedication to Venus off the altar and the whole temple collapsed. He collapsed another pagan temple he found in the countryside by simply cursing the demons he saw dancing on it.

Needing to create some baptismal fonts and consecrate them, he realized he had forgotten to bring any chrism (holy oil used for anointing). He sent a deacon to retrieve it, but the deacon was in such a hurry that he dropped the vial, which broke and let the oil seep into the earth. Romanus picked up the pieces of the vial and prayed, whereupon the vial reassembled itself and the oil returned to the vial.

A later legend that crops up in an account of his life in 1394 tells of Gargouille, a dragon that inhabited the swamps of the left bank of the River Seine. A vicious beast that devoured livestock and humans, it was tamed by Romanus when he made the sign of the cross. The dragon lay down at is feet, whereupon Romanus put his stool around its neck and led it by this leash into the town where it was killed and either burned or thrown into the river (stories differ).

Near the end of his life he chose to retire to a hermitage. One day a woman appeared, asking for hospitality. Torn between his duty to a guest and his apprehension about allowing a woman into his quarters, he decided to show good manners and allow her in. She then disrobed and unbound her hair. Romanus called on the Lord, an angel appeared, revealing the "woman" as a demon and throwing it into a bottomless pit.

Romanus died ab out 640. Like many early medieval saints, it is likely that we know nothing historically accurate about them, but that does not stop their veneration. St. Romanus has a feast day on 23 October, still celebrated in the archdiocese of Rouen (these days simply transferred to the following Sunday).

Let me now draw your attention to the name of the dragon he tamed, Gargouille. If you say it a certain way, it sounds like gargoyle. There's a reason for that, which we will explore next time.

A Boring Civil Servant

Richard Barre was likely Norman by birth, probably born at La Barre (hence the name) in northern France c.1130. He studied law at Bologna (illustration is of the Bologna University Library in modern times) at the same time as Stephen of Tournai, who would go on to become Bishop of Tournai in 1192 (we have correspondence between Richard and Stephen from later in their careers). A fellow student wrote of Richard "May you manage the causes of bishops and the affairs of kings." As it happens, that is precisely what Richard wound up doing.

By 1165 he was in the household of King Henry II of England. One of the legal matters on which he advised the king was the dispute with Archbishop of Canterbury Thomas Becket over royal vs. ecclesiastical authority over the church. In September 1169, Barre was sent to Rome to complain to Pope Alexander about the behavior of the papal legates to England, whom Barre claimed agreed to one thing and then changed their minds the next day.

Months later, in late winter 1170, Barre was again sent to Rome to discuss rescinding the excommunication placed by Becket on royal officials. It is believed that Barre's mission was also to receive the pope's blessing to allow Henry's eldest son, the "Young King Henry," to be crowned by someone other than the Archbishop of Canterbury, as was traditional. This was absolutely not allowed.

Barre was sent to Rome again after Becket's murder in December 1170 to make clear to Pope Alexander that Henry had nothing to do with Becket's death. Shortly after this mission, Barre became Archdeacon of Lisieux and was named a royal justice. He was also made chancellor to Young King Henry in 1172, but when the son rebelled against the father Barre chose to abandon the son for the father's service.

He continued to go on missions for the Crown. In early 1198 he went to the continent to meet with German Emperor Frederick Barbarossa, King Béla II of Hungary, and Byzantine Emperor Isaac II Angelos to discuss travel through their lands and permission to gather supplies on an intended Crusade. King Henry's death in 1189 ended the Crusade plans.

After Henry's death, Barre served William Longchamp, who made Barre the Archdeacon of Ely, but when Prince John exiled Longchamp (King Richard was away on Crusade at the time, and John was managing things with the style that earned him the nickname "Bad King John"), Barre had no royal justice duties until Richard's return. Upon Richard's death, the new King John dismissed Barre from royal service; Barre returned to his duties in Ely. He died c.1202.

He wrote a work on the Bible, dedicated to Longchamp, in which he annotated certain passages; it exists in two manuscripts.

There were many people in the Middle Ages who led similar lives. Richard Barre came to my attention because of sci-fi author Duncan Lunan's theory that one of the Green Children of Woolpit was named Agnes and married him.

One of the other events from Richard's life was as odd as the idea that he was married to an alien child. That was the revealing of the body of St. Romanus. Let me tell you about that next time.

The Green Children of Woolpit

Sometime in the 12th century, an unusual find in Suffolk produced one of the Middle Ages' greatest mysteries. The event was recorded by William of Newburgh (admittedly not the most faithful historian, but this was the Middle Ages), and by Ralph Coggeshall (who published his history in 1220). Although writing later, Coggeshall says he drew on the writing of Sir Richard de Calne, the man who (we are told) cared for the children.

The story goes that villagers of Woolpit one day during harvest time found two small children—a boy and a girl—looking scared and speaking in an unknown language. More notable than the unknown language was the fact that they had green skin. The villagers took them to Sir Richard de Calne, who took them in.

The two would not eat any food put before them. This lasted for days, until they saw some green beans growing in the garden and ate them off the plant. Sir Richard kept them with him for years, teaching them English and slowly getting them to eat available food. (Over time the green of their skin faded; it was presumably because of the different diet.)

Once they had learned sufficient English, the children told this story:

“We are inhabitants of the land of St. Martin, who is regarded with peculiar veneration in the country which gave us birth.”

“We are ignorant [of how we arrived here]; we only remember this, that on a certain day, when we were feeding our father’s flocks in the fields, we heard a great sound, such as we are now accustomed to hear at St. Edmund’s, when the bells are chiming; and whilst listening to the sound in admiration, we became on a sudden, as it were, entranced, and found ourselves among you in the fields where you were reaping.”

“The sun does not rise upon our countrymen; our land is little cheered by its beams; we are contented with that twilight, which, among you, precedes the sun-rise, or follows the sunset. Moreover, a certain luminous country is seen, not far distant from ours, and divided from it by a very considerable river.”

The children eventually were baptized. The boy died soon afterward of an unknown cause. Presumably the girl lived until adulthood.

Theories in the Modern Era about the origin of the children range from natives of a fairy world, to abandoned non-English-speaking Flemish orphans who were "green" from malnourishment, to extraterrestrial beings transported here accidentally. There is, of course, no way to know.

What happened to the girl? One 20th-century author believes, based on the family tree of Sir Richard de Calne, that she was named "Agnes" and married the clergyman and scholar Richard Barre. That's as good a reason as any to look at the life of Richard Barre next.

Child of the Forest

Widukind (seen here as a memorial in Hereford, Germany) was a Saxon leader who organized the chief opposition to Charlemagne's conquest of Saxony and his introduction (enforcement) of Christianity. To Frankish forces he was a murderer, a heathen, a destroyer of churches. To the Saxons he was a freedom fighter, a great leader, and protector of their way of life.

We know little about him personally except what the Franks record. He is first mentioned in the Royal Frankish Annals as the only significant Saxon leader who did not attend the Diet at Paderborn, when Charlemagne first set down the laws he expected Saxony to follow. Widukind was staying in Denmark with King Sigurd.

In 782 he was back in Saxony and convincing his countrymen to go to war again with the Franks. One success of his led to Charlemagne retaliating with the Massacre at Verden. Widukind agreed to surrender in 785 if the Franks guaranteed no bodily harm would come to him. He was baptized in the Elbe with Charlemagne as his godfather. He is now considered a saint, with churches named for him and a feast day on 6 January.

What made him surrender? Why did he acquiesce to baptism as a Christian after resisting for so long? Of course there is a legend that explains this.

According to the legend, Widukind decided to learn more about Christianity. He disguised himself as a beggar and infiltrated the Frankish military camp. It was Easter, and he saw a priest performing Mass. At the moment of the elevation of the Host, Widukind saw the priest holding up a beautiful child. He offered this beautiful child to each member of the congregation. Widukind was amazed at this vision. Continuing to act as a beggar afterward, he was captured when one of the soldiers recognized him.

He described the scene at mass, and Charlemagne declared that God had given him this vision of the divine child Jesus. Widukind realized the significance of this and renounced paganism, embracing Christianity.

Over time he was hailed as a national hero. A tomb made for him in 1100 in Herford was discovered in the Modern Era to contain the body of a woman. Three graves in front of the altar contain the bodies of three men, two of them about 60 years old, all of them related. It is assumed that one is Widukind.

The name Widukind literally means "child of the forest." For some real "children of the forest," I should tell you about the Green Children next, and that's just what I'll do.

The Saxon Wars, Phase 2

The Saxon Wars (see Part 1) were a series of campaigns led by Charlemagne to incorporate and Christianize Saxony. A first phase was complete by 779CE, with three of the four Saxon areas conquered; Nordalbingia would come later.

There was peace for a few years after that. In 782, Charlemagne returned to Saxony with the goal of making sure their code of laws conformed to his own ideas of justice. This code of laws was the Lex Frisionum, the "Law of the Frisians." He held a gathering of Saxon nobles, but there was one notable exception: Widukind was instead staying with the Danish king Sigurd (father of Ragnar Lodbrok). It might not have been difficult to have the native peoples adopt the new laws, but it was particularly harsh regarding pagan practices.

In autumn of 782, Widukind returned and led a revolt that burned several Christian churches and invaded the Chatti, a Germanic tribe that had been converted by St. Boniface and who were firmly part of the Frankish empire. Charlemagne was busy fighting the West Slavic Sorbs (Serbs), and in his absence Widukind defeated a Frankish army at the Battle of Süntel, killing the leaders and many other nobles. Charlemagne retaliated by killing 4500 rebels in a single day, referred to as the Massacre at Verden.

Charlemagne stayed in Saxony for two solid years of fighting. The Saxon rebels were reduced sufficiently that Widukind himself gave in and had himself baptized in 785. The major battles for Frankish rule over Saxony were done, but sporadic revolts continued for another two decades. The Nordalbingian Saxons were subdued in 798 by allies of Charlemagne, the Obotrites, a confederation of West Slavic tribes near what is now Mecklenburg. The Obotrites had also helped Charlemagne put down an Engrian revolt in 796.

In 797, Charlemagne started backing away from some of the harsher penalties, and in 802 codified Saxon common law. He also established bishoprics in Paderborn, Munster, Bremen, Verden and others.

Widukind's particular entry in this blog (see paragraph two) labels him only as Charlemagne's enemy. His conversion after his strong opposition to Frankish invasion seems unlikely, but of course there's a story behind it, which I will relate next time.

The Saxon Wars, Phase 1

In January of 772CE, a church in Deventer in the Netherlands was sacked and burned by Saxons who objected to missionary work in their lands. Deventer had been founded only a few years early, about 768, by an English missionary named Lebuinus. This burning was the reason for Charlemagne's first foray into Saxon lands to conquer the territory and forcibly convert the area to Christianity.

Saxony contained four areas at the time: Westphalia, Eastphalia, Engria, and Nordalbingia in the north. Charlemagne's Frankish forces subdued Engria first. It was on this occasion that Charlemagne destroyed the Irminsul. The difficulty for the conqueror was that he had many campaigns not in Saxony, so that he would "lose ground" whenever he turned his attention to, say, Lombardy. Charlemagne would destroy Saxon strongholds and take hostages, but Saxons led by Widukind would raid Frankish lands while Charlemagne was away.

There were 18 separate campaigns between 772 and 804 needed to complete the absorption and Christianization of Saxony. During this phase he conquered Eastphalia and converted their leader Hessi in 775, then returned to Austrasia through Westphalia, leaving a few temporary strongholds there as well. At this point he felt Saxony was well in hand except for the northernmost section of Nordalbingia. More missionaries were sent by Charlemagne.

In 777, a diet at Paderborn was called to integrate Saxon and Frankish laws. Charlemagne earned the nickname "butcher of Saxons" by decreeing capital punishment for anyone engaging in heathen practices. His harsh approach put him at odds with Alcuin of York, whose position was that God's word should be spread by persuasion, not the sword. Two years later he enforced mass baptisms. There was relative peace at this time, the end of the first phase of the Saxon Wars.

In 782, the second phase would begin because Charlemagne couldn't leave well enough alone. We'll go further with this tomorrow.

As for that church at Deventer, it was rebuilt a few years after the destruction by the "Apostle of Saxony," St. Ludger.

Starkad (the Giant?) Part 2

After the killing of Vikar and receiving the blessing of Odin and the curse of Thor, the (giant?) warrior Starkad joined a Danish viking raid on Russia. The terrain had been scattered with caltrops, but Starkad and the crew donned clogs to get through the caltrops and conquer the Russians. After that event he joined the Bjarmians.

Later he went to Uppsala in Sweden for several years with the so-called Sons of Freyr who claimed descent from the god Freyr, whom Snorri Sturluson called the most renowned of the gods. Uppsala had a temple that was the center of the Norse religion. The dancing and mimes for the sacrificial rites and the jingling of bells connected to them nauseated Starkad for their effeminacy.

He left to join the Danish king Hali and fought with him against King Hugleik of Ireland. Unfortunately for Starkad, the curse of Thor was in effect, and he received the worst wound he had ever had (so far) from one of Ireland's defenders, who happened to be a name we've seen recently, Svipdag. Starkad won anyway, and looted all of Hugleik's treasure.

Starkad then was sent east to quell a rebellion, fighting against Curonians, Sambians, and Semigallians. He also fought a magical Russian warlord named Wisin, who could blunt an instrument by looking at it. Starkad covered his sword with hide and defeated Wisin. He also killed a jotun (giant) named Tania in Byzantium.

His exploits took him all over. He helped Frotho against the Saxons, but when Frotho was succeeded by his wanton son Ingild, Starkad was disgusted and went to join the Swedish king Halfdan (the father of Hrothgar and Halga of Beowulf and other legends). When Starkad heard that Ingild's sister Helga was about to marry a lowly goldsmith, he was so annoyed at the idea that he went back in disguise, castrated the goldsmith, and slapped Helga.

Ingild decided to give Helga in marriage to a Norwegian named Helgi, but to win her Helgi had to fight nine brothers who had courted her. Helgi knew he would fail, so he looked for a champion; he found it in Starkad. Starkad killed all nine himself, but—again, along the lines of Thor's curse—received so many wounds that his intestines were hanging out.

At the end of his life, weakened and with poor eyesight, Starkad went wandering until he ran into Hather. Determining that Hather was noble, Starkad decided that Hather should be the one to kill him. He told Hather to cut off his head, and then run between the head and body as they fell: this would grant him invulnerability (possibly by being splashed with the blood, as in the tale of Bothvar Bjarki). (This is where we remember that Starkad is a giant.) Hather fears being crushed by the enormous body as it fell, so does not follow Starkad's direction. When Starkad's head hits the ground, it bites at the grass, showing his ferocity even in death.

Traditions about Starkad persisted long after the first centuries of the Common Era. The late 13th-century Annals of Ryd (a Cistercian monastery in Schleswig-Holstein) record that his sword could still be seen beneath a certain bridge when the water was low.

Starkad takes up Book 6 of the Gesta Danorum. Book 7 is a collection of unrelated stories. Book 9 is about Ragnar Lothbrok/Lodbrok, about whom I wrote years ago. Book 8 covers the Saxon Wars against our old friend and frequent subject, Charlemagne. Back to the Carolingian Era next time for a little more fact and a little less fiction.

Starkad (the Giant?) Part 1

The story of Starkad was retold in many Scandinavian sources, but the most complete re-telling was in the Gesta Danorum. Starkad the son of Stórvirkr saved himself from a shipwreck and entered into service of the Danish king Frotho, who gave him a ship to patrol the danish shoreline.

In order to be complete in his telling, however, Saxo Grammaticus relates two origin stories for Starkad. In one, Starkad is an Estonian from east of the Baltic Sea. Grammaticus could not bring himself to leave out the earlier version of Starkad's origin: that he was a jotun ("giant") with eight arms. (Alternately, Starkad was a human warrior who was the son or grandson of a jotun also named "Starkad" or maybe "Ali-Starkad." That's the way it goes when legend and history collide.)

In either case, Starkad possessed greater-than-usual size and strength, and no one could defeat him. While on a viking expedition with the petty king Vikar, the ship's progress was halted by a strong wind. The crew thought a blood sacrifice to the gods was the answer, and Vikar was chosen. Starkad made a noose to put around Vikar's neck, saying it was just for show, but Starkad either was lying or the noose magically became stronger and started strangling Vikar. Starkad finishes him with a sword.

In another version of this story, the lot falls to Vikar and the crew puts off the decision to the following day. Then Starkad's foster-father, Grani Horsehair, reveals himself to be Odin in disguise. In exchange for the sacrifice, Odin will bless Starkad with three lifetimes, the best weapons, riches, victory in battle, a noble reputation, and the gift of poetry. Thor, however, because he is a foe to giants, objects to these blessings because of Starkad's jotun heritage. He curses Starkad to counter the blessings: Starkad will commit a crime in each lifetime, he will never have children, he will never possess land, he will always be wounded in battle, he will never be able to remember his poems, he will be hated by the common people.

With the blessings and curses done, Odin gives Starkad a spear which appears to be simply a reed stalk; Starkad uses this to sacrifice Vikar to Odin—his first evil deed.

Tomorrow I'll relate the rest of his life, including how he tired of it and had himself killed, but even in death he showed his ferocity.

Amleth, Prince of Denmark

William Shakespeare (1564 - 1616) drew inspiration from history, and not just for his Henry plays. His best-known play was no different. Hamlet, Prince of Denmark has been endlessly retold and adapted for 400 years. Shakespeare himself probably got the story from a 1514 Paris printing of Saxo Grammaticus' Gesta Danorum. (The illustration here is from a 17th-century Danish printing.) The Amleth story is told in Books three and four of the Gesta.

In the Danish original, Amleth (Amlóði in Old Norse) is the grandson of a Danish king. Amlóði is a term for a fool or simpleton, reflecting the character's pretense of helplessness to fool his victim. Amleth's father, Horvendil, married Gerutha (Gertrude), daughter of the king of Denmark, after slaying the king of Norway, but Horvendil's brother Feng (Claudius) kills him out of jealousy. Feng convinces Gerutha that her husband hated her and that he, Feng, had saved her from this marriage and that she should marry him. This is in Jutland.

Amleth, afraid of sharing his father's fate, acts like an imbecile, but Feng is not satisfied with this. Feng tries to occupy him with a young girl who is being fostered at court (this character becomes Ophelia in Shakespeare's play). Amleth, while speaking in his mother's chambers, slays an eavesdropper (Polonius), and disposes of the body. Feng now knows he cannot trust Amleth, and sends him to Britain with a letter asking the king of Britain to put the bearer to death.

Amleth learns of the letter's content and alters it to instead execute the attendants with him (Rosencrantz and Guildenstern) and give the king's daughter to Amleth in marriage. Amleth marries the princess and returns to Denmark a year after he left. He shows up in time to see a funeral—his own, since Feng assumed his death had taken place as intended. After encouraging everyone at the feast to drink a lot of wine, he weighs them down with the heavy tapestries from the hall and sets it all on fire, including his mother. He kills Feng with Feng's own sword.

He makes a long speech to his people, who proclaim him king. He then goes to Britain to bring his wife home, but learns that Feng and the king of Britain had a pact to each avenge the other's death. The king is reluctant to kill Amleth, and so sends him on a dangerous task: proxy to woo a Scottish queen who has executed all those who tried to woo her. This queen falls in love with Amleth and returns with him to Britain, where his first wife warns him of her father's intent to kill him. Amleth wins the battle that follows.

He returns to Jutland with his two wives, but Wiglek, the successor of his maternal grandfather, seeks revenge for the death of Gerutha. Wiglek kills Amleth.

From the photo-story of a character with whom we are all familiar, we turn next in the Gesta to a famous hero who is completely unknown outside of Scandinavia, Starkad. See you tomorrow. 

Early Denmark

The Gesta Danorum ("Deeds of the Danish People") was written in the 12th-century by Saxo Grammaticus ("Saxo the Grammarian"). Its 16 books are indispensable for their look at the history of Denmark, and particularly because they contain a look at early Estonia and Latvia.

Because it begins with pre-history, the first half deals with mythological and legendary characters. It introduces the brothers Dan and Angul, the founders of the Danes and Angles, respectively. Book One relates the loss of Denmark to Sweden (starting a long hostility between the two countries) and the attempt to get it back with the help of Odin. Hading, one of the first Danish kings, is orphaned when his father, King Gram, is killed by King Svipdag of Norway. Hading is taken to Sweden and raised by a giant whose daughter tries to seduce Hading into staying with her instead of training as a warrior.

Hading eventually returns to Denmark with the giantess, Harthgrepa, who raises a man from the dead to get some information but then is killed by supernatural beings. Odin then gives Hading advice and predicts his future.

Hading achieves success fighting in the Baltic, then returns to Denmark to kill his father's killer and assume the throne. He spends his reign fighting the Norwegians and Swedes until his death by suicide. He is succeeded by Frotho I, who has to replenish the royal treasury (depleted due to the Hading's wars) by slaying a dragon for its hoard. Like Hading, he campaigns first in the Baltic and later in Britain where he captures London. He dies fighting against the king of Sweden.

Book Three introduces Hamlet, Prince of Denmark ... sort of. I'll explain next time.

Yrsa

Yrsa was the mother of the 6th century King Hrolf Kraki. Her name is uncommon, not appearing in any other Norse sources, and there is a common assumption that it relates to Latin ursus, "bear." This would align with the Scandinavian tendency to use bear symbolism for extraordinary people, like Beowulf and Bothvar Bjarki (who appears in Hrolf Kraki's Saga, of which Yrsa is a main character).

Her story is quite tragic. She is the illegitimate child of Halga (a brother of Hrothgar from the poem Beowulf) and the Saxon Queen Oluf. Halga wooed Oluf, but she wanted nothing to do with him; while he was asleep, she shaved his head and tarred him. Later, he returns and kidnaps her, getting her pregnant in the process. Oluf returns to her home and bears a daughter whom she names Yrsa, who is sent away to be raised with shepherds.

At the age of 12, Halga comes upon the young shepherdess and decides to wed her. (Yes, the age discrepancy is alarming, but Halga had a reputation for pursuing women.) Oluf, learning this, keeps quiet about Ursa's lineage, thinking it a sweet revenge that Halga should wed his own daughter. The pair wed, and have a son, Hrolf, who will some day inherit the kingdom of Denmark.

Hearing that the marriage is a happy one, Queen Oluf decides to ruin them by traveling to Denmark to reveal Yrsa's parentage. Halga accepted this, but Yrsa was ashamed, and left him. She winds up in Sweden where she marries King Aðils (Eadgils in Anglo-Saxon literature). Learning this, Halga goes to Sweden to take her back, but he is killed by Eadgils and robbed. Upset by this, Yrsa curses Eadgils that all his berserker warriors will die. Later, when the warrior Svipdag arrives to "test his skills," she supports him and he slays all the berserkers. Svipdag leaves Sweden for Denmark and enters service under King Hrolf, who has succeeded Halga.

Yrsa saw her son again when he went to Sweden to collect the gold that Eadgils had taken from Halga. Eadgils and Hrolf had recently worked together against their mutual enemy, King Áli, Eadgils' uncle who usurped his throne. Eadgils was reluctant to return the gold, and kept putting off the event. Yrsa gives Hrolf much more gold than he was owed, including Eadgils' favorite gold ring, Sviagris, and gives him and his retainers armor, provisions, and the dozen best horses.

Hrolf and his men leave, Eadgils pursues; Hrolf casts Sviagris on the ground; Eadgils sees it and stoops to pick it up by spearing it with the tip of his spear; while leaning down, Hrolf cuts his back with his sword.

When Hrolf was later killed by his brother-in-law, his sister Skuld ruled Denmark. Yrsa gets revenge for the death of her son by sending a Swedish army that captures Skuld, whom she tortures to death. Hrolf's daughters rule Denmark.

Yrsa's story appears in more than the Hrolf Kraki Saga: Saxo Grammaticus in his Gesta Danorum ("Deeds of the Danish People") says she fled with Hrolf, and suggested the stratagem of casting some of the gold behind to delay the Swedes. Thinking ahead, she had packed gilt-covered copper coins for this purpose.

The Gesta Danorum is another collection of stories like Hrolf Kraki's Saga that offers a lot of information about early Scandinavian beliefs and culture. We'll check that out next.

Hrolf Kraki's Saga

There is a major source of Scandinavian legend called Hrolf Kraki's Saga. King Hrolf, supposedly a nephew of Hrothgar—the king mentioned in the poem Beowulf whose hall is menaced by Grendel—would have ruled in the 6th century.

Hrolf is mentioned in Beowulf as Hrothulf. It is not said which of Hrothgar's brothers is his father, but later tradition makes it Halga (instead of Heorogar), because the Saga does talk about his relationship with Halga. The "kraki" that gets tacked onto his name means "tall, angular, slender" and no doubt referred to his physical appearance.

The Saga was composed in Iceland about 1400, and brings together many separate incidents in history and legend, tied together by their connections to Hrolf Kraki and the members of his family, including his father, aunt, and uncle. Its five sections each focus on a different set of people. The first section of four chapters presents a long and illustrious lineage for Hrolf and the struggle for control of the Danish kingdom.

Chapters five through 13 deal with Hrolf's problematic father, a man of uncontrollable ... appetites. He cannot resist women, and apparently doesn't want to: he ignores any advice about caution. This leads him ultimately to a liaison with Yrsa, by whom he sires Hrolf. This is followed by a few chapters about some men who will later become champions in King Hrolf's service.

What follows next is the tale of the bearlike Bothvar Bjarki, in many ways a completely separate story that was grafted onto the Saga by its link to Bothvar working for Hrolf. It is an elaborate tale of magic and adventure far more complex than the summary I gave in the previous post. I've previously discussed some of the shared elements between his story and Beowulf's.

The final ten chapters are more directly about Hrolf himself. Prior to this the Saga has introduced all the significant characters surrounding him, not just warriors but also several notable women. Women make up a large part of these sections: men seek their advice, there is an elfin woman and her daughter who change the destiny of anyone who encounters them, details of marriages (both good and bad) are revealed.

In fact, although Hrolf is of course the focal point for the Saga, women are frequently the connective tissue between different episodes. One in particular is his mother, Yrsa, whose tale is fascinating and deserves to be known. See you next time.