Sunday Night Book Club: Njal's Saga
Vikings in Iceland, female goading, intergenerational blood feuds, and MORE!
One of the best moments of This is Spinal Tap is the band’s performance of their pseudo-mystical power ballad “Stonehenge.” Hilarious for the band’s shock at the tiny size of the Stonehenge prop (owing to the inability of their lead guitarist to understand the difference between inches and feet), the scene is made even better by his description of the people of who built Stonehenge:
In ancient times, hundreds of years before the dawn of history, lived a strange race of people: the Druids.
No one knows who they were, or what they were doing, but their legacy remains . . . hewn into the living rock of Stonehenge.
Flash forward three thousand years. Like the memory of the Druids (whose descendants they massacred and enslaved), the Vikings’ memory is “hewn into the living rock” of various runestones and other monuments. But it is also reflected in a rich literary tradition of sagas. These semi-historical epics depict the adventures of various explorers and heroes throughout Scandinavia and beyond.
Njal’s Saga tells the story of the settlers of Iceland, from roughly 900 to 1014. While not accepted by mainstream historians as completely factual (the ending involves fantastical visions and Valkyries), it describes real locations and contains family names of actual Icelanders.
Most of the action in the Saga revolves around Gunnar of Hlidarendi, a Nordic Chad who is exceedingly handsome, brave, honorable, and the most accomplished warrior in Iceland, and his friend, the eponymous Njal, who is known for his wisdom and skill as the greatest lawyer (for lack of a better term) among the settlers. The Saga depicts the choices and actions that lead to Gunnar and Njal’s rise to preeminence in Icelandic society, and their eventual downfall—partially engineered by the jealous and cowardly Mord Valgardsson.
While I initially wanted to structure this post as a normal review essay, I decided that focusing on the themes of the Saga would be easier to digest for people not familiar with it—and, more important, easier for me to write!
Before diving in, you should be aware that I have no idea what I’m talking about. I have zero knowledge of this time period in the Nordic world, much less the specific historical context in Iceland. So feel free to comment as you see fit (politely of course). And share widely and often—and even subscribe!—if you find this post engaging.[1]
The perils of LYING
Everyone knows that lying is generally not advisable. The Saga illustrates this truth in great relief—by the fact that the entire story is set in motion by a casual lie.
Hrut, the uncle of Hallgerd, Gunnar’s wife, ignites the blood feud that is the main subject of the Saga after he sleeps with Gunnhild, the queen of Norway. When Gunnhiild asks Hrut whether he has a woman in Iceland (which he does), Hrut lies and tells her he doesn’t. Hrut’s dishonesty causes Gunnhild to cast a spell on him:
She put her arms around his neck and kissed him and spoke: “If I have as much power over you as I think I have, then I cast this spell: you will not have sexual pleasure with the woman you plan to marry in Iceland, though you’ll be able to have your will with other women. Neither of us comes out of this well, because you did not tell me the truth.” (13)
Hrut’s banal lie not only led to an unpleasant sex life. It also sets the Saga in motion, the first link in a chain of events the leads to a generations-long blood feud and the deaths of many people. While the Saga doesn’t condemn lying in all circumstances, the fact that it begins in this way is a powerful reminder that honesty is generally the best policy.
Female goading
Much of the Saga consists of interfamily disputes over status, and perceived slights thereto, that often erupt into violence. Many of these feuds are started by women, who spread rumors, slander others, and provoke the men in their lives to perceive insults to their family and personal honor that, without such female influence, would have been ignored or perceived as innocuous.[2]
The aforementioned Hallgerd—a real piece of work, or, as one of Njal’s sons describes her, “a whore”—is the prime exemplar of this female goading. Nihilistic and vindictive, she attempts to create discord between Gunnar and Njal through constant slander of Njal and instigating needless conflict with Njal’s family, in particular his wife, Bergthora. The first time Njal and Bergthora host Gunnar and Hallgerd, soon after the latter couple’s marriage, Hallgerd causes trouble:
Bergthora went up to the cross-bench, together with Thorhall, and spoke to Hallgerd: “You must move aside for this woman.”
Hallgerd spoke: “I’ll not move aside for anyone, and I won’t sit in the corner like a cast-off hag.”
“I decide things here,” said Bergthora.
After that, Thorhall sat down.
Bergthora came to the table with water for washing hands. Hallgerd took her hand and said, “There’s not much to choose between you and Njal—you have gnarled nails on every finger, and he’s beardless.”[3]
“That’s true,” said Bergthora, “and yet we don’t hold it against each other. But your husband Thorvald was not beardless, and yet you had him killed.”[4]
“There’s little use to me in being married to the most manly man in Iceland,” said Hallgerd, “if you don’t avenge this Gunnar.”[5]
Gunnar rejects Hallgerd’s demands, and instead keeps the peace with his friend’s family:
[Gunnar] sprang up and leaped across the table and spoke: “I’m going home, and it would be best for you [Hallgerd] to pick quarrels with your servants, and not in the dwellings of others. I’m in debt to Njal for many honours, and I’m not going to be a cat’s paw for you!”[6]
The role of female goading in the Saga illustrates the power of women in a society where they do not have many formal rights. Women like Hallgerd, who have their own agendas and ambitions, are able, through both guile and legitimate appeals to status, to manipulate men to take actions that advance their goals.
Know your limits
The Temple of Apollo at Delphi—home of the famous oracle—bore two inscriptions: “nothing in excess” and “know thyself.” These two statements are the closest thing to direct moral instruction found in Hellenistic religion, which normally eschewed such commands. While it’s possible to interpret each inscription in many different ways, one of the best is to read them as reminders of our mortality. Men are not gods, nor should they aspire to be. The point of these admonitions are not to dissuade men from seeking greatness or excellence—or, from, in other words, being god-like. It is to warn them that there are risks in doing so.
Njal’s Saga provides a similar cautionary tale in the form of Gunnar. Gunnar is handsome, a great warrior, wealthy, married to a beautiful woman—a success at everything he turns his hand to. He is also generous and kind to all, being a gracious host, and sharing food and agricultural supplies with people from all over Iceland during a great famine.
Gunnar’s excellence, however, makes him a magnet for trouble. One of Gunnar’s neighbors warns him “to be on his guard, and told him that he had many who envied him—‘since you [Gunnar] are thought to be the most outstanding man in the whole land.’” [7] This envy takes many forms. Younger Icelanders, eager to prove their combat prowess, frequently challenge Gunnar to fight. Though Gunnar vanquishes all comers, he acquires many enemies by doing so. Those he leaves alive are humiliated in defeat and bear grudges against him. And those he kills have vengeful family members. In addition, Gunnar’s magnanimity and beauty provoke contempt—among some of the people he goes out of his way to help. Gunnar’s downfall and eventual death is set in motion by the “cunning and malicious”[8] Mord Valgardsson. Mord is the antithesis of Gunnar: ugly, weak, and driven by envy at Gunnar’s success and preeminence. And yet he is able to convince others to share in that envy, and lay Gunnar low. This lesson—that generosity can engender resentment, and excellence provokes jealousy among those who lack excellence—remains relevant as ever.
Friendship is subversive
One of the focal points in the Saga is the friendship between Gunnar and Njal. As mentioned, Gunnar is one of the leading men in Iceland, due to his abilities in combat. Njal is equally preeminent in Icelandic society, for his political acumen, intellect, and knowledge of the law. It is through Njal’s counsel that Gunnar achieves his early financial success and avoids harm from an ever-expanding list of adversaries. Gunnar’s failure to heed a crucial piece of Njal’s advice—never kill more than one member of a family, and never break a legal settlement with a good man—leads to his death.
Gunnar and Njal’s bond endures despite the fact that their wives hate each other. Throughout the first part of the Saga, Bergthora and Hallgerd engage in an escalating vendetta that results in the death of numerous servants and kinsmen. At each stage of the feud, Njal and Gunnar never resort to violence against each other, despite strong societal expectations to do so. Instead, they affirm their friendship. Their love for one another causes their wives outrage and comes with significant financial cost.
That Gunnar and Njal remain friends despite great pressure from family members and societal convention to sever contact, and even to become enemies, not only speaks to the particular strength of their friendship. It also illustrates the SUBVERSIVE nature of all friendships.
The saying goes that friends, unlike families, choose each other. The relationship is based not on societal obligations or biological imperatives, but shared interests and enjoyment of each other’s company. The deepest friendships are marked by love, which is made no less (or even more) powerful by the fact that that love isn’t rooted in sexual attraction. In this way, friendship creates a wholly new obligation—of friend to friend.
This obligation is unique because it is voluntary. It exists separate and apart from obligations that are imposed by societal or familial convention. The possibility that an obligation to one’s friend may conflict with, or even supersede, these imposed obligations makes the act of being a friend potentially revolutionary. Choosing a friend over family or society subverts family and society. In making this insight, the Saga harks back to both the Iliad and the Bible. By avenging his friend Patroclus, Achilles flouted protocol and challenged the command of the Greek alliance. By standing with his friend David, Jonathan betrayed his father Saul and gave up his chance to be king. Friendship is uncontrollable and unpredictable—which is why those who seek to control others and make them predictable seek to suppress it.
In this vein, Bergthora and Hallgerd’s remonstrations of Njal and Gunnar look much less like outbursts of feminine jealousy and hysteria, and much more like attempts by societal actors to CONTROL Njal and Gunnar—to eliminate the freely chosen obligation they have to one another as friends, and assert the primacy of the imposed obligations they have to their family members.
Hallgerd upon Gunnar’s payment of overly generous compensation to Njal, after the Hallgerd-inspired slaying of one of his servants:
“You two are a real match for each other,” said Hallgerd. “Both of you are soft.”[9]
Bergthora upon learning that Njal will do nothing to retaliate for Hallgerd’s slandering of Njal and his sons as being impotent:
“Gifts have been given to you all, father and sons, and you’re not real men unless you repay them.”[10]
The comforts of modern life have made the conflicting obligations between friend, family, and society less stark. But friendship can still pose a threat to these other institutions, even if the stakes aren’t quite as high as they are in Njal’s Saga.
The failure of the law
Disputes, and how to resolve them, are the ultimate subject of the Saga. It presents two methods of dispute resolution: the law, through adjudicated settlements, and violence, through the blood feud. The Saga makes clear that law, be it through its inherent frailties or the lack of respect accorded it by the Icelanders, is frequently unable to restrain human passion—with disastrous consequences.
Icelandic law is described in detail in the Saga. The settlers initially organized four courts to hear disputes, which feature prominently in different episodes throughout the Saga. A long section describes the efforts of Njal to create a fifth court, which serves as a court of appeal. The Althing—or general assembly, which still sits in Iceland today—served as the final arbiter of disputes, as well as the main social event of the year, attended by most Icelandic families. The Saga also contains detailed (and boring) passages describing civil procedure. This system is one of remarkable complexity, in a just-established settlement at the edge of the known world.
Throughout the Saga, disputes of all kinds—divorces, domestic abuse, theft, murders—are adjudicated through this system. Rulings, or settlements, are financial in nature. They require one, or sometimes both, parties to compensate the other for the wrong they have suffered. The purpose of this system is to resolve disputes peacefully, and give the parties finality and repose.
This elaborate legal architecture, however, frequently fails to do any of these things. The Saga is replete with episodes describing adjudicants who, unhappy with the settlement in some way, break it, and resort to violence or further crime against the other party in the dispute. Settlement breakers are not always bad people—Gunnar, ignoring Njal’s advice, also breaks a settlement. The subsequent use of violence as an alternative dispute-resolution mechanism often spirals out of control, as reprisal invites further reprisal, by the aggrieved or their family members and friends. These blood feuds lead first to Gunanr’s death, and then to Njal’s, which is the climax of the Saga.
While the Saga accordingly demonstrates the limits of the law as a way of resolving conflict, it also implicitly condemns settlement breakers and the subsequent violence they commit. The law, if afforded more respect by the Icelanders, could serve as the bulwark of a more stable, peaceful society.
[1] I read the Penguin Classics edition of Njal’s Saga, translated by Robert Cook and published in 2001. All page references cited here are to this edition. I’ve been told by friends that the earlier Penguin Classics edition, translated by Magnus Magnusson, remains the best available English translation.
[2] One of Njal’s sons explicitly notes this trait among Icelandic women, stating, in response to some latest outrage: “We’re not made like women, that we become furious over everything.” (p 75)
[3] While Njal is actually unable to grow a beard, Hallgerd is using the term “beardless” to insult Njal’s manhood and sexual prowess.
[4] Bergthora’s statement is accurate. Hallgerd convinced her foster father—who likely harbored incestuous feelings for her—to kill her first husband.
[5] The entire exchange is found on page 57.
[6] Njal’s Saga, p 57.
[7] Njal’s Saga, pp 117 – 118.
[8] Njal’s Saga, p 99.
[9] Njal’s Saga, p 66.
[10] Njal’s Saga, p 74.