Iceland: Horseback tours in saga land. W. S. C. Russell
The men who settled Iceland were neither serf nor savage. They were men of might and power, fearless and of high birth and of the highest mental capacity in the ancient days of Norway. The cause of their emigration is related by Snorri in Heimskringla. Halfdan, the Black, was one of the petty kings of Norway. At his death, he left his realm to Harald, a child of ten years, known in history as The Fair Haired.[1] It is to the influence of a high-minded woman, Gyda, daughter of Eric, King of Hordaland, that the settlement of Iceland by the nobles of Scandinavia is due. Harald sent his messengers to Gyda with the request that she become his wife. To their demand she replied—
“I will not waste my maidenhood for the taking to husband of a king who has no more realm to rule over than a few folks. Marvelous it seems to me that there be no king minded to make Norway his own and be sole lord thereof in such wise as Gorm of Denmark or Eric of Upsala have done.”
Her reply in no way angered Harald. On the contrary he praised her high spirit and said—
“For she has brought to my mind that matter which it now seems to me wondrous I have not had in my mind before.”
He then made the following oath—
“This oath I make fast, and swear before that God who made me and who rules over all things, that nevermore will I cut my hair or comb it, till I have gotten to me all Norway, with the scat thereof and the dues, and all rule thereover, or else I will die rather.”
After years of strenuous warfare he brought all Norway under his rule, wedded Gyda and held a feast. Snorri completes the story as follows—
“So King Harald took a bath, and then he let his hair be combed, and then Earl Rognavald sheared it. And heretofore it had been uncombed and unshorn for ten winters. Aforetime he had been called Shock-head, but now Earl Rognavald gave him a by-name and called him Harald Fair Haired, and all said who saw him that he was most soothly named, for he had both plenteous hair and goodly.”
Harald lived from 860 to 933 AD He introduced that new doctrine of middle Europe that made the people the king’s retainers at all times and not on special occasions. It was a centralization and consolidation of power and royal authority. It laid taxes upon all the lands and interfered with what the people had ever held as their vested rights. It enabled the monarch to meddle with the holdings of his people and aimed to cement the entire country into one kingdom of power through a central head rather than to permit the existence of several petty realms, each presided over by a Jarl who was jealous of his more powerful neighbors. To the lesser rulers the course of Harald was tyrannical, a curse upon their freedom, a blight upon their ambition. As we view the situation from the distance of ten centuries, it was a step in the progress of the nations that was to result in a blessing through the introduction of Christianity and the ultimate progress of civilization. The freemen resisted as long as they could; beaten again and again they gathered their waning strength and renewed the desperate struggle, but to no purpose. One by one the freeholders came under Harald’s dominion. Many withdrew from the scene of strife, forsook the land of their birth, preferring exile with their accustomed liberties to vassalage under conditions, where, as they deemed, no free-born man would care to live.
We now read of them in many lands. France, Italy, Spain—each in turn feels the fury of the wrath of the fair-haired warriors of the north. A century later, we behold these restless wanderers victorious in the streets of Byzantium. They check their foes from whatever source they come, never give quarter and swiftly ride to victory, be it on their spirited chargers or in their high-prowed seahorses. In Sicily, Asia, the shores of the Black Sea, in Greece, in northern Africa, no matter where, the stoutest champions of the Moslem or the less valiant warriors of the declining Roman Empire, all feel the force of the northern blast and succumb to the prowess of the Northmen. Wherever they go they leave their mark, and to this day the arsenal of Venice is scored with runes which boast the triumphs of the Vikings.
Of all their wanderings the islands “west-over-the-sea” were their chosen field for conquest. For centuries the coast and river hamlets of England, Scotland and Ireland were in constant dread of their bloody depredations. Their blows were quickly struck. Whence they came the Briton did not know. Swift as the hawk upon the sparrow, they swept down upon some quiet, industrious hamlet with merciless weapon in hand. Fire, pillage and slaughter followed in their wake. They plundered home and sanctuary, tossed in sport the screaming children on their pikes, sent their mothers to shame and serfdom, and left the erstwhile peaceful Briton to quench the ebbing stream of life in the smouldering embers of his former home.
Ireland, where a civilization, greater than we shall ever know, was crumbling, lured them to mingle in the strife between its petty lords, from which the Vikings always issued with the lion’s share of the spoil and glory. Scotland, and its adjacent islands, offered tempting chances for swift descent upon unprotected hamlets; and in the hours of their rest or preparation for a new onslaught, its channels afforded them protection and opportunity to refit their ships. The blow struck and they were away with seahorse laden to the water’s edge, seeking the security of the Orkneys, the Shetlands and the distant lava peaks of Faroe. These island groups ultimately became the homes of those who dared not return to Norway or had become too aged to mingle longer in the robbery of Europe. From these islands the self-exiled Northmen sailed forth to assist now one faction of England, Scotland and Ireland, and now another, and even vented their spite by continued bold and dastardly forays upon the domains of Harald.
In 860 Naddodd, a Faroe Viking, left his native Isles and was driven by contrary winds deep into the stormy waters of the north. For days no land was visible, and the anxious eye beheld only the boundless waste of waters shrouded in impenetrable fogs, and the occasional glimpses were only of the rolling, drift-strewn sea ever beyond. At length, the mists were lifted, and the plucky mariner beheld the snow-capped peaks of Iceland. A landing was effected but Naddodd found no traces of human beings, and in his deep disgust he christened the newly discovered country Snaeland, immediately taking his departure.
In 864 Gardar, a Swedish Viking, in attempting to reach the Hebrides, was driven by adverse winds, as Naddodd had been, and at length reached Iceland. He explored the coast quite thoroughly and was the first to circumnavigate it. He built a house on the shore of Skjalfandifjörðr, the present site of Húsavik, “house-by-the-creek.” Hoping to affix his name to the country, he rechristened it Gardar’s Holm. On his return to the Hebrides he gave an enthusiastic account of his voyage and discoveries.
This story so influenced Floki Vilgerdarson, a famous old Viking, that he resolved at once to settle in the new country. Floki, trusting to the flight of ravens, took three of these sable birds of omen as his pilots. When a little beyond the Faroe Islands, he liberated one bird which immediately returned to the land. Some days later a second was set free, whereupon it arose, circled about the ship and returned to its cage. Later the third was liberated. This bird flew to the northwest, and piloted Floki to Iceland. On entering a great bay, bounded on the right by a lofty mountain and on the left by a rugged promontory, Faxa, one of his companions, called the attention of Floki to the fact that such prominent physical features must mark a land of vast expansion and enormous riches. So flattered was Floki that the bay was immediately christened Faxafjörðr, its present name. A colony was founded on a small inlet which in honor of their feathered pilot was named Hrafnarfjörðr, “Raven’s fiord.” Proper precaution was not taken for the severe winter that followed, and during the second year the few survivors returned to Faroe in disgust and gave to this inhospitable land the chilly name of Iceland.
Among the first of the high-born Jarls of Norway to leave his native land was Ingölfr Arnarson, accompanied by his foster brother, Hjörleifr. Many of his friends had gone to ravage France, others went to England, where Alfred was beginning his eventful reign and still others remained in Norway to await the reports from Ingölfr in Iceland. This was in 874, and recalling accounts of Gardar, they set sail with high hopes. Ingölfr took with him the pillars of the high seat of his ancestral hall and when he came in sight of the icy domes of the Öraefa Jökull he cast the pillars into the sea and vowed that upon whatever