The first true Christian king of Norway, Óláfr Tryggvason, never had the glory and veneration bestowed on the holy king Óláfr Haraldsson. In the literature dealing with his figure, however, Óláfr Tryggvason is depicted as the ruler synthetising the earthly monocratic power and its Christian legitimacy. In this context, the foundation of royal power is not the result of the military supremacy, associated with the claim by right of blood, but it is based on the very nature of the king as a man of God and incarnation of a superior eschatological plan. Despite some contradictions, this concept finds its fulfilment in Oddr Snorrason’s Óláfs Saga Tryggvasonar (Munch 1853, Finnur Jónsson 1932, Guðni Jónsson 1957, Holtsmark 1974, Ólafur Halldórsson 2006).
Even though this work contains several references to the Bible and to hagiographic literature, the presence and the influence of a pre-Christian background are also significant. In this study, the linguistic analysis of the saga will be used to highlight the contribution of those ancient religious practices and heathen rites in building the royal holiness, characterising the king. In the saga, the semantic re-elaboration of these elements, which does not obliterate their original meaning, is the most peculiar feature of the source, where linguistic complexity becomes the most evident proof of the deep travail experienced by Nordic society before the new Christian faith.
We have little biographical information about the author of the saga, (Guðni Jónsson 1936: 270, Jakob Benediktsson 1986: 199) who is named in the text (Ólafur Halldórsson 2006: 358, 374; see also Ólafur Halldórsson 1958-2000, III: 66). Oddr was a monk in Þingeyrar, a Benedictine monastery that became one of the main cultural centres in Iceland. Oddr Snorrason’s saga about Óláfr Tryggvason was originally written in Latin, (Guðbrandur Vigfússon & Unger 1860-1868, I: 516, Ólafur Halldórsson 1958-2000, III: 64) around 1190 and certainly after 1170. In fact, the saga contains a narration concerning Saint Sunnifa, (O’Hara 2009) whose relics were moved from Selje to Bergen in 1170. Furthermore, the text mentions Sverrir Sigurðarson, king of Norway in 1177. He became the only ruler after the battle of Fimreite in 1184. (Finnur Jónsson 1923: 391-392, Turville Petre 1953: 192).
The translation of Oddr Snorrsaon’s Latin text should have been made in Iceland at the beginning of the 13th century because the saga is considered one of the main sources of Snorri Sturluson, who died in 1241, for his saga about Óláfr Tryggvason, in the Heimskringla (Finnur Jónsson 1923: 388, Turville Petre 1953: 83, 192, 225).
The Latin text of Oddr Snorrason’s work did not survive, while there are three witnesses of the translation: the MS. AM 310 4to (AM), drawn up in Norway in the second half of the 13th century, the MS. Stockholm perg. 4to n° 18 (S), of Icelandic origin and dating back to the early 14th century, and the MS. De La Garde 4-7 (U), drawn up in Norway in the mid-13th century (Finnur Jónsson 1923: 385, Finnur Jónsson 1932: I-XXXIII, Gordon 1938: 17-18, Turville Petre 1953: 191, Andersson 2003: 26-27). It is believed that the original Latin text had a first translation and that the versions contained in the three witnesses stem from it. (Finnur Jónsson 1923: 385-386, Finnur Jónsson 1932: VIII, Gordon 1938: 18, Turville Petre 1953: 192). The MS. AM, without the initial part, is considered the closest to the original, as highlighted by expressions in Latin1 not present in the text of the MS. S, which is also more concise and with fewer references to the oral tradition.
The existence of literary material in Latin and in Old Norse, concerning the king who had introduced the Christian faith in Iceland, highlights two different but converging purposes. The drafting in Latin gives a universal value to the figure of the ruler, and makes it possible for the whole Christian community to use the text, even outside the Scandinavian area.
In the translation of Oddr Snorrsaon’s Latin text this purpose is indirectly highlighted when the meaning of some Old Norse words is explained:
Þat bauð Óláfr konungr at allir fjnlkunnigir menn ok þeir er með fornan átrúnuð fóru ok einkanliga þeir allir, hvárt er váru konur eða karlar er Norðmenn kalla seiðmenn […] Þá var gefit nafn skipinu á norrœna tungu ok kallaðr Ormr hinn langi. En á latinutungu heitir hann Longus draco eða serpens.2 (Ólafur Halldorsson 2006: 232, 275-276)
The presence of a translation denotes a precise strategy of use of the text. The work could be understood even outside the restricted circle of ecclesiastical scholars and, therefore, was an important tool for the creation of a widespread worship, an essential element for a holy king in which the Icelandic community could recognise itself (Lönnroth 1963, Fidjestøl 1997, Antonsson 2005, Bagge 2006, Phelpstead 2007, Dubois 2008, Antonsson 2012, Grønlie 2017, Lubik 2020, Brégaint 2021, Lebouteiller 2021, Phelpstead 2021, Wanner 2021).
The content of the narration is summarised by the author,
Þat kalla menn at Óláfr Tryggvason hafi haft þrjár tíðir á sínum dngum. Var sú hin fyrsta er hann var í miklu ófrelsi ok áþján ok óvirðing. Nnnur tíð aldrs hans skein með birti mikilli ok farsælu. Hin þriðja tíð með tign ok frægð ok mikilli áhyggju fyrir mnrgum at bæta.3 (Ólafur Halldorsson 2006: 209)
This tripartite structure, a sort of narrative trinity ruled by a precise chronological scan, does not summarise the content of the text, which is much more complex (Zernack 1998) and highlights all the effort of the translator of the original to mix biographical elements and the purpose of the work, Óláfr’s celebration as instrument and witness of the divine omnipotence.
The supernatural events related to Óláfr Tryggvason, even before his birth, are ascribable to both heathen superstition and the Christian faith. Óláfr Tryggvason’s birth is the subject of prophecy, like the coming of Christ,4 but is announced by a spákona, a seeress. The content of the prediction is depicted in a very different way in the two main witnesses of the saga:
Í þenna tíma réð fyrir Garðaríki Valdamarr konungr með miklum veg. Svá er sagt at móðir hans var spákona, ok er þat kallat í bókum phitonis andi er heiðnir menn spáðu. Þat gekk mjnk eptir er hon mælti, ok var hon þá á ørvasa aldri. Þat var siðr þeira, at jólaaptan hinn fyrsta skyldi bera hana á stóli fyrir hásæti konungs. Ok áðr menn tœki til drykkju, þá spyrr konungr móður sína ef hon sæi eða vissi nnkkvorn háska eða skaða yfir gnapa sínu ríki, eða nólgask með nnkkvorum ófriði eða ótta, eða aðrir ágirntisk hans eigu. Hon svarar: „Eigi sé ek þat, son minn, er ek vita þér horfa meinsamliga eða þínu ríki, ok eigi ok þat er skelfi þína hamingju. En þó sé ek mikla sýn ok ágætliga. Nú er borinn á þessum tíðum einn konungsson í Nóregi ok á þessu ári, sá er hér mun upp fæðask í þessu landi, ok sjá mun verða ágætligr maðr ok dýrligr hnfðingi […] Ok mun hann konungr vera ok skína með mikilli birti […] Beri mik nú á brott, því at ek mun nú eigi framar segja, ok ærit sagt er nú.“5 (Ólafur Halldorsson 2006: 144-145; MS. AM)
Nú á þessi tíð réð austr fyrir Garðaríki Valdamarr konungr, ok var hann ágætr maðr. Móðir hans var spákona, ok sá hon marga hluti fyrir, ok gekk þat eptir er hon mælti. Hon var ørvasa, ok var þat siðr hennar at hon var borin í hnllina hvern jólaaptan ok skyldi segja hvat þá væri tíðenda um heiminn, ok sat hon á stóli fyrir hásæti konungs.Ok er menn váru komnir í sæti sín ok búnir til drykkju, þá mælti konungr: „Hvat sér þú, móðir, eða er nnkkut háskasamligt mínu ríki?“ Hon mælti: „Þat sé ekki, at eigi standi þitt ríki með sóma ok veg. Hitt sé ek, at á þessi tíð er borinn í Nóregi konungsson með bjnrtum fylgjum ok hamingjum, ok er mikit ljós yfir honum […]. Ok er hann er kvaddr af heimi, þá liggr fyrir honum miklu meiri dýrð en ek kunna um at tala, ok berið mik nú á braut, ok mun ek nú eigi segja framar.“6 (Ibid. MS. S)
The prophecy pronounced by a female figure is typical of heathen worship, as demonstrated by the Vnluspá in the Poetic Edda (Kuhn 1983: 1-16), and by the figure of Hulð in the Ynglinga Saga (Bjarni Aðalbjanarson 2002, I: 31). In this respect, in the text of the MS. AM we find the expression phítonis andi. In Greek mythology Python is the dragon-serpent, son of Gaea, killed by Apollo at the oracle in Delphi. Apollo takes possession of the oracle and the priestess, endowed with divinatory powers, takes the name of Pythia (Kerenyi 1951: 135-136). The Latin term, pythonissa (“prophetess”), has precise biblical references: in the First Book of Samuel, according to the Vulgate, we read that Saul, before the battle of Gèlboe against the Philistines, “inquired of the Lord, but the Lord did not answer him by dreams or Urim or prophets” (“Consuluitque Dominum, et non respondit ei neque per somnia neque per Urim neque per prophetas” First Book of Samuel 28, 6). Saul then says to his attendants: “Find me a woman who is a medium, to whom I can go to seek counsel through her” (“Quaerite mihi mulierem habentem pythonem, et vadam ad eam et sciscitabor per illam” Ibid. 28,7).
It is significant that this woman (The Witch of Endor) is defined kono er hafi phitonis anda (Unger 1862: 491; “woman who has a Pythian spirit”) in Stjórn, a translation of biblical material written in the fourteenth century. The spirit appears to Saul announcing defeat in battle and death: “Thus Saul died because of his rebellion against the LORD in disobeying his command, and also because he had sought counsel of a necromancer” (“Mortuus est ergo Saul propter iniquitatem suam, eo quod praevaricatus sit mandatum Domini, quod praeceperat, et non custodierit illud, sed insuper etiam pythonissam consuluerit” 1 Chronicles 10, 13).
In the holy Bible there are female figures endowed with prophetic virtues, who are entrusted with proclaiming the word of God, such as the prophetess Culda (2 Kings 22, 14-19). In Luke’s Gospel we read of the prophetess Anna, a woman consecrated to God and able to reveal the divine plans (Luke 2, 36-39).
The announcement of Óláfr’s birth takes place at an extremely significant moment, the celebration of the winter solstice, following a custom established by tradition and during the ceremonial, before men begin the ritual libations.
In the MS. S, the protective spirits embodied in Óláfr are indicated with the noun f. fylgja, which defines a spirit following someone (see vb. fylgja). In Oddr’s text this meaning is found when Eiríkr, father of Óláfr’s mother, announces that Hákon jarl is coming: En ek vilda eigi at þér yrðið hér hnndum tekin, ok munum vér hér mœta í dag Hákoni Sigurðarsyni, því at hér eru nú komnar hans fylgjur (Ólafur Halldorsson 2006: 131).7 The fylgja often takes a theriomorphic shape, and appears above all when the fate of the human being followed by the spirit must be fulfilled (see Brennu-Njáls saga, Einar Ól. Sveinsson 1954: 64, 107, 170 and Vatsndæla saga, Einar Ól. Sveinsson 1939: 111).
In the Christian perspective, fylgjur become angelic entities, as in Brennu-Njáls saga, where Saint Michael is fylgjuengill (Einar Ól. Sveinsson 1954: 257; “guardian angel”). Their presence reveal that the future king is a living testimony of the power of the Christian God.
Óláfr is also followed by tutelary geniuses who ensure him a good fortune (hamingjur). It has to be noted how the term hamingja (about the meaning of hamingja in Old Norse literature see Hallberg 1971) takes different meanings in the two texts of the saga: in the text of the MS. AM it means “luck”, “propitious fate”, and is referred to King Valdamarr. In the text of the MS. S, there is no royal fortune related to King Valdamarr, and the term, exclusively used to depict Óláfr Tryggvason, appears in the plural form (hamingjur), and defines premonitory elements that do not predict a fate but express the full identity between the fate of the future king and God’s providential plan.
In the text of the MS. S, moreover, is recurring the issue of light that follows Óláfr Tryggvason and it’s the heathen prophetess, who announces the founding principle of the new faith: “ the LORD will be your light forever” (Isaiah 60, 19) as we read in Isaiah, and “I am the light of the world” (John 8,12) says Jesus in Jon’s Gospel.
In the text of the MS. S the heathen seeress foreshadows a real Ascension of Óláfr Tryggvason, a hieratic representation, that heralds what will be read in the text of the saga about the mysterious disappearance of the king, wrapped in a bundle of light during the fatal battle of Svnlðr:
Þá sá allir þeir er þar váru koma yfir lyptingina ok konunginn himneskt ljós, bæði mótstnðumenn hans, þeir er með jarli váru ok svá konungsmenn þeir er á lífi váru. Ok menn Eiríks jarls hjnggu í ljósit ok ætluðu at vega þann er Guð vegsamaði með ljósinu. Ok er á brott hvarf ljósit, þá sá þeir hvergi konunginn, ok leituðu þeir hans allt um skipit ok umhverfs hjá skipinu, ef hann væri á sundi. Ok finna þeir hann eigi.8 (Ólafur Halldorsson 2006: 345-346)
Also in this case there are clear biblical references: “As they walked on conversing, a flaming chariot and flaming horses came between them, and Elijah went up to heaven in a whirlwind” (2 Kings 2, 11). “As he [Jesus] blessed them he parted from them and was taken up to heaven” (Gospel of Luke 24, 51). “So then the Lord Jesus, after he spoke to them, was taken up into heaven and took his seat at the right hand of God” (Gospel of Mark 16,19). “When he [Jesus] had said this, as they were looking on, he was lifted up, and a cloud took him from their sight” (Acts 1, 9).
The glory that surrounds Óláfr is so intense that it prevents the prophetess from go on with her prophecy, as the seeress questioned by Óðinn about the fate of his son Baldr in the Baldrs draumar, mythological poem contained in the Codex Arnamagnæanus (MS. AM 748 I 4°) a manuscript written at the beginning of the 14th century: Nauðug sagðac, nú mun ec þegia (Kuhn 1983: 279); “Reluctantly I told you, now I’ll be silent” (Larrington 2014: 236). Similar words are pronounced, in the Legendary Saga dedicated to Óláfr Haraldsson, by the seeress who was asked to foretell the fate of the future holy king: Nu er mer æigi læyft, mæira at sægia (Heinrichs 1982: 64); “Now I am no longer allowed to add anything else”.
The second prediction concerning Óláfr’s birth is also formulated within the traditional worship, by men with prophetic powers (spámenn):
Í þenna tíma váru í Garðaríki margir spámenn, þeir er vissu fyrir marga hluti. Þeir sngðu af sínum spádómi at komnar váru í þetta land hamingjur nnkkvors gnfugs manns ok þó ungs, ok aldri fyrr hnfðu þeir sét né eins manns fylgjur bjartari né fegri, ok snnnuðu þeir þat með mnrgum orðum, en eigi máttu þeir vita, hvar hann var. En svá sngðu þeir mikils háttar vera hans hamingju at þat ljós er yfir henni skein, at þat dreifðisk um allt Garðaríki ok víða um Austrhálfu heimsins.9 (Ólafur Halldorsson 2006: 150)
The young Óláfr is followed by fetches (hamingjur) and by intense and luminous protective spirits (fylgjur bjartari), from which comes a light that radiates over the eastern half of the world, just as those who were called to be the first witnesses of Jesus’ birth were enveloped by the light: “The angel of the Lord appeared to them and the glory of the Lord shone around them, and they were struck with great fear” (Gospel of Luke 2, 9). Here we find the same linguistic material of the prophecy delivered by the mother of King Valdamarr present in the text of the MS. S. The prediction entrusted to men endowed with prophetic powers (spámenn) confirms the prophecy delivered by the seeress (spákona): the male and female elements find their synthesis, in which the magical aspect of pagan worship merges with the transcendent one of the Christian faith.
The prediction is also present in pivotal moments of Óláfr’s life. The saga tells of a Lapp, as such a master of magic and sorcery (Page 1962, Mundal 1996, Pálsson 1999, Mundal 2000, Tolley 2006, Tolley 2009, Mitchell 2011) to whom the Christian king turns twice to obtain, thanks to the occult powers of which the Lapp is endowed, both the healing of his dog and news of his future fate:
Fiðrinn veit nú fyrir ferð þeira ok lýkr upp durum húss síns, at þeir mætti hitta byggð hans. Ok er þeir sá þangat ljós, þá hitta þeir leið sína þangat. Ok Finnrinn mæltisk innan fyrir ok sagði svá: „Veit ek, Óláfr, hverr þú ert, eða hvers þú leitar eða hverr þú munt verða. En ekki þarft þú at ganga í hús mín, ok þungt hefir mér verit í dag fyrir þér, síðan er þú komt við land, ok eigi fara litlar fylgjur fyrir þér; því at í þínu fnruneyti eru bjnrt guð, en þeira samvistu má ek eigi bera, því at ek hefi annarskonar natúru. Ok fyrir því skalt þú utan fyrir mælask.“ Þá mælti Óláfr: „Seg nú, Finnr, hvat vér skolum at hafask eða hvat tíðenda verða mun um vár viðskipti, eða hvárt mun ek fá ríki þetta eða eigi.“ Finnrinn svaraði: „Á morgin árla mun Þórir heimta þik á tal ok biðja þik ganga á land ok vilja eiga við þik leyndartal, ok hann mun beiða at þér setizk niðr; hann mun ok leita at velja sér hæra sæti en þér. En þú skalt þat eigi vilja, fyrir því at tveir menn hans eru í skógi leyniliga, ok þegar er hann gerir þeim nnkkvot mark munu þeir fram hlaupa ok drepa þik. En þú lát vera tvá þína menn í skógi með þessum hætti, ok þegar er þú gefr þeim mark hlaupi þeir fram ok drepi Þóri. Ok með þessum hætti mun Þórir veiddr verða í þeiri snnru er hann ætlaði þér, ok ferr þá sem makligt er. En litlu eptir þetta mun Hákon vera drepinn, en þú munt eignask ríkit. Ok er þetta er fram komit, er nú segi ek, at þú stýrir Nóregsveldi, þá munt þú bjóða nýjan sið ok ókunnan í þessu landi […] Ok fór þetta allt eptir því sem Fiðrinn hafði sagt.10 (Ólafur Halldorsson 2006: 188-190)
As well as the seeress and the prophets of Garðariki, the Lapp also detects the protective spirits of the Christian king, indicated in the text as fylgjur, in a remarkable and, in some ways, extraordinary synthesis between the virtues of the magician of the shamans’ earth and those of the Christian prophet.
The Lapp warns Óláfr of an ambush that will be set against him, saving his life, and announces that Óláfr will be the architect of a great evangelising mission: another fascinating ambivalence in the evaluation of the shamanic world, both a source of salvation for the Christian king and an expression of the powers of the evil one. Óláfr’s behaviour appears, in fact, in every respect, contrary to Christian precepts, which would impose to trust only in the divine providence and not in the powers of one who, given his “different nature” (annarskonar naturu), declares that he opposes the Christian message, a rejection expressed in the text by the impossibility for the Lapp to endure the light.
The Christian religion is defined by the term siðr, in Lapp’s words. In the pre-Christian tradition, siðr expresses the osmosis between the sacral element of ritual behaviours, which constantly renew the relationship with the deities, and customs and traditions of the community, regarded as compulsory, because they exist since time immemorial, and their constant repetition reasserts both their strength and their immutability.
This meaning occurs frequently in the text (Ólafur Halldorsson 2006: 144, 165, 206, 211, 212, 216, 221, 222, 236, 237, 238, 264, 271) where, however, siðr indicates, as in the words of the Lapp, also the Christian faith and the worship related to it (Ibid.: 165, 174, 189, 206, 212, 216, 221, 223, 232, 248, 271).
This double meaning occurs, for example, when the author depicts the difficulties faced by King Óláfr in the work of evangelisation:
En eigi var þess at ván at fólkit myndi verða hlýðit með siðum eða fullri trú við Guð, því at stundin var sknmm, en fólkit hart ok styrkt í ótrunni ok vildi seint láta sið frænda sinna.11 (Ibid.: 271)
The polysemy of the linguistic element, mirrors and summarizes again, in the celebration of the Christian hero, the full coexistence of the values of the new faith and those expressed by the communities devoted to traditional worship.
It must be highlighted that the meetings with the Lapp take place after Óláfr’s baptism, an event in which, instead, the Christian characterisation of the prophecy becomes apparent:
Þess er getit at Óláfr heyrði sngur frá einum ágætligum manni er var í eyju nnkkvorri, er Syllingar heita; þat er skammt frá Írlandi. Sjá var prýddr gipt mikilli ok spáleiksanda almáttigs Guðs.12 (Ibid.: 166)
The abbot who baptises the future king has, according to the text, “great natural ability” (gipt mikilli) and “the prophetic spirit of Almighty God” (spáleiksanda almáttigs Guðs). The great natural ability of the abbot is defined by the term gipta, etymologically connected to the verb gefa (“give,” “grant”; Cleasby & Guðbrandur Vigfússon 1874: 193-194, Ordbog: gefa), and refers to something that has been given or assigned to someone. This is the hallmark that the abbot has received as a gift from God his extraordinary qualities, and, in this sense, the gipta summarizes the grace granted by God. The text highlights that it is not an embodied quality of the man endowed with divinatory powers, as in the case of the seers of traditional religion. In the Christian perspective, instead, the prophetic element has its source in the divine omnipotence, of which the seer is an instrument.
Alongside the Christian and heathen prophets, in the saga there is also the presence of a seer who has the features of the soothsayer present in the classical myth. He is “an old man who was blind” (Andersson 2003: 113; Einn gamall maðr ok blindr (Ólafur Halldorsson 2006: 302), who predicts the tragic outcome of king Óláfr’s military expedition, which will end with the fateful battle of Svnlðr: Mikill skaði mun hér at hnndum koma, er konungr várr mun a brott fara (Ibid.).13
In Oddr Snorrason’s saga all the predictions mentioned above turn out to be true, and the text does not discriminate between the prophecies formulated by the witnesses of the Christian message and those coming from the followers of the traditional religion or, even, the outcome of arcane magic. In the text written by the monk Oddr Snorrason there is unconditional acceptance of the predictive element, unlike biblical teaching, where we find a clear distinction between divinatory powers and prophecy:
Let there not be found among you anyone who immolates his son or daughter in the fire, nor a fortune-teller, soothsayer, charmer, diviner, or caster of spells, nor one who consults ghosts and spirits or seeks oracles from the dead. Anyone who does such things is an abomination to the LORD […]. I will raise up for them a prophet like you from among their kinsmen, and will put my words into his mouth; he shall tell them all that I command him. If any man will not listen to my words which he speaks in my name, I myself will make him answer for it. But if a prophet presumes to speak in my name an oracle that I have not commanded him to speak, or speaks in the name of other gods, he shall die. (Deuteronomy 18, 10-22)
In the predictions announcing his coming and his fate, Óláfr Tryggvason is always linked to the light, and bright deities he meets during a worship, as reported by Þorkell, Óláfr’s friend:
Ok þá kom yfir hann ljós mikit, svá at varla kvazk hann í móti mega sjá. Ok þá kvazk hann sjá tvá menn skrýdda dýrligum klæðum ok leggja hendr sínar yfir hnfuð konungi.14 (Ólafur Halldorsson 2006: 269)
The mystical radiance is the feature of Óláfr’s life and the bright glory that surrounds Óláfr is also witnessed by the physical appearance; the brightness of his gaze is a recurring element in the text: Hann hefir ok augu svá snnr ok fngr (Ibid.: 155).15
The light is the symbol of “the inexpressible and primal Power” (“lo primo e ineffabile Valore”; Dante Alighieri 2002: 173). In skaldic poetry on Christian subjects, from the twelfth to the fourteenth century, God is “the light of the world” (ljós heims; Einarr Skúlason, Geisli, composed in 1153) and “the light of the sun of holy faith” (ljós sólar heilags síðar; Ibid.), and Jesus is “living light” (lifanda ljós; Anonymus, Lilja, composed between 1340 and 1360) (Clunies Ross 2007: 8-9, 588, Cheadle 2015: 128, 170). The spirits accompanying Óláfr are “bright” (bjartar; Ólafur Halldorsson 2006: 150), and in skaldic poems God’s words are “brighter and fairer than gold” (bjartari ok fegri gulli; Anonymus, Líknabraut, composed in the second half of the thirteenth century), and Jesus is “the bright sun” (bjartr rnðull), born from “the bright star of the sea,” the Virgin Mary (bjartri stjnrnu flœðar; Einarr Skúlason, Geisli) (Clunies Ross 2007: 8, 237, see also Cheadle 2015).
As witness of the light, Óláfr fights against the darkness of pagan superstition, whose evil force manifests itself trough the fjnlkyngi, the skill in witchcraft and magical arts, often depicted in the saga as expression of evil one’s powers.
The prefix fjnl derives from the Indo-European root *pel (Pokorny 1959: 799-801; “to fill”) and means “much, manifold” (Cleasby & Guðbrandur Vigfússon 1874: 158) and the substantive kyngi, properly “knowledge”, it’s only used with reference to magic, Ibid.: 366). The corresponding adjective fjnlkunnigr literally defines who knows a lot, who has extensive knowledge and this is a virtue held by Óðinn: Óðinn var forspár ok fjnlkunnigr (Ynglinga saga V, Bjarni Aðalbjanarson 2002, I: 14).16
In Oddr Snorrason’s work, sorcery is evil’s hallmark: the queen Gunnhildr, by using her sorcery, tries to kill Óláfr as soon as he was born (Ólafur Halldorsson 2006: 131). Gunnhildr was probably the daughter of the Danish king Gormr and, therefore, sister of Haraldr Gormsson, in turn father of Sveinn named ‘forkbeard’ (tjuguskegg), one of the architects of Óláfr’s fall. According to Fagrskinna, instead, she lived with the Lapps: Þá var hón á fóstri ok at námi með Mnttul Finnakonunungi; sá var allra fjnlkunnigastr (Bjarni Einarsson 1985: 79).17 In Snorri Sturluson’s Heimskringla Gunnhildr says that she has been staying with the Lapps at nema kunnostu af Finnum tveim (Bjarni Aðalbjanarson 2002, I: 135).18
Also in Oddr Snorrason’s saga Gunnhildr is a native from north-Norway: Gunnhildr var dóttir gnfugs manns, Nzurar tota, norðan af Hálogalandi (Ólafur Halldorsson 2006: 127).19 We find, therefore, in Oddr’s work, a sort of Coincidentia Oppositorum: a woman fostered by Lapps tries to kill Óláfr and a Lapp, as we have seen, saves his life. This denotes, again, a deep ambivalence towards magic, and this interpenetration of witchcraft, worship of heathen deities and powers of the evil one, is pointed out in the text in exemplary events, in which the Christian king fights those who use the arcane forces of evil to oppose his evangelising mission.
All those who practice magic arts (fjnlkunnigir menn; Ibid.: 232), called fornan átrunuð (Ibid.)20 are faithful custodians of the ancient religion: Eyvindr kelda […] kunni mesta fjnlkyngi […] með vélum djnfuligrar íþróttar (Ibid.: 234).21 Eyvindr’s nickname is kelda (“bog”) and is very significant: according to some sources (Storm 1880: 13, Bjarni Einarsson 1985: 15, Þorleifur Hauksson & Marteinn Helgi Sigurðsson 2018: 25) the queen Gunnhildr, when arrived in Denmark, was taken and sunk in a bog. In Cornelius Tacitus’ De origine et situ Germanorum, is reported that, among Germanic peoples, plunging into the mire of a bog is death penalty for cowards, unwarlike and men stained with abominable vices (Canali 1991: 16).
Other opponents of the Christian king as Eyvindr kinnrifa (“Torn Cheek”) and his fellows are blótmenn miklir ok vildu eigi láta sið frænda sinna (Ólafur Halldorsson 2006: 237).22 Actually, Eyvindr kinnrifa is a spirit created by exercise of magic and, before dying, utters these words:
Faðir minn ok móðir váru saman langa hríð með lngligum hjúskap ok áttu ekki barn […] Fóru þau síðan til Finna með mikit fé ok báðu þá gefa sér nnkkvorn erfingja af fjnlkynngis íþrótt. Finnar knlluðu þá til hnfðingja þeira anda er loptit byggja […] ok sjá andi sendi einn óhreinan anda í þessa hina døkku myrkvastofu er at snnnu má kallask minnar móður kviðr. Ok sá hinn sami andi em ek, ok holdguðumk ek svá með þessum hætti, ok síðan sýndumk ek með mannligri ásjá […] ok fyrir því má ek eigi skírask at ek em eigi maðr.23 (Ibid.: 257)
The constituent with which the text indicates Eyvindr’s embodiment is the verb holdgask, which in Christian literature defines the union of human and divine nature in Christ at the moment of his conception, as we read in The Icelandic Homily Book, (De Leeuw van Weenen 1993: 61v-62v)²⁴ and in the Mariu saga (Unger 1871: 46).
The text doesn’t just report events in which the supernatural element is a devilish device to oppose the holy mission of the Christian king, but also contains an extremely important assessment of an epistemological and philosophical kind:
En þó at þvílíkir hlutir sé sagðir frá slíkum skrímslum ok undrum sem nú var sagt, þá má slíkt víst ótrúligt þykkja […] En þessa hluti, er vér segjum frá slíkum hlutum ok dæmisngum, þá dæmum vér þat eigi sannleik at svá hafi verit, heldr hyggjum vér at svá hafi sýnzk, því at fjandinn er fullr upp flærðar ok illsku.24 (Ólafur Halldorsson 2006: 259; MS. AM)
En allir vitu hvé mnrg undr ok sjónhverfingar fjándinn hefir gert við sína menn, en trúum vér því af slíku sem oss sýnisk til þess fallit.25 (Ibid.; MS. S)
It is worth noting the occurrence in the MS. S of the substantive sjónhverfing, not found in the MS AM. The compound is formed by sjón (“the view”) and by hverfing, whose meaning can be traced back to both the strong verb hverfa (“have a circular motion” but also “disappear”) and the weak verb hverfa (“turn”). It is the same constituent that in Gylfaginning, the first part of Snorri’s Edda, indicates the devices put in place by the Æsir to deceive King Gylfi, as well as those implemented by Útgarðaloki against the god Þórr (Faulkes 2005: 7, 42). In Christian literature, sjónhverfing defines, as in the text of the saga, the evil apparitions created with magic against the witnesses of the Christian faith, so in the case of the pharaoh’s magicians in the biblical narrative (Unger 1862: 267, 269), and the devil tormenting Saint Martin (Unger 1877: 563). These remarks, both in the MS. AM and in the MS. S, need to be clearly highlighted, because they have a precise theoretical value, which helps to define the purpose of edification underlying the narration about the Christian king: sensitive knowledge is misleading and deceitful, and, indeed, becomes an instrument of evil to deceive believers in the true God. This is an evaluation that indirectly recalls one of the founding principles of scholastic philosophy, fides quaerens intellectum (Migne 1864: 225).
The holy mission of Óláfr is hampered by the apparitions of pagan deities, Óðinn and Þórr, living personifications of the evil one, as pointed out in the text of the saga (Ólafur Halldorsson 2006: 249-252 and 288-290), but in Oddr Snorrason’s work, symbolic and epiphanic visions are above all aimed at strengthening Óláfr’s role as man chosen by God to spread the light of the Christian faith. He is allowed to have a vision of the bliss of heaven and the cruel sufferings of hell (Ibid.: 162-164), just as of the angels of the Lord (Ibid.: 269) and of Bishop Martin, the most important holy fighter of the Christian tradition:
Ok er Óláfr konungr kom vestan, þá lá hann við ey þá í Noregi, er Mostr heitir. Ok um nótt, þá vitraðisk honum hinn helgi Martinus byskup ok mælti við hann: „ Þat hefir hér verit siðr í þessu landi at gefa Þór eða Óðni eða nðrum ásum minni at veizlum. En nú vil ek at þú skiptir hinn veg til at mér sé minning ger at veizlum, en hitt falli niðr er áðr hefir verit. En ek heit þér því í móti, at ek skal tala með þér á morgin ok styrkja þitt ørendi, því at margir ætla nú í móti at standa.26 (Ólafur Halldorsson 2006: 212)
In the apparition, Martin gives the king a direct order: the saint must be venerated in the same way in which the deities of the ancient heathen religion were worshipped. Here is the toast a significant element (Cahen 1921), as can be seen from the precise regulation of the ritual, described in the Hákonar Saga Góða included in the Heimskringla: Skyldi fyrst Óðins full – skyldi þat drekka til sigrs ok ríkis konungi sínum – en síðan Njarðar full ok Freys full til árs ok friðar (Bjarni Aðalbjanarson 2002, I: 168).27
The pattern is a symbolic expression of the basic functions within any community: sovereignty, military power and fertility (Dumézil 1959). It’s a representation that reiterates, in essence, the same coexistence of a pre-Christian ritual and precise references to the new faith present in the saga. Bishop Martin, whose life was a model for all missionaries in medieval times, offers its help to the standard-bearer of the new faith, by imposing a ritual fully respectful of the same pagan superstition, that will be vehemently attacked by King Óláfr himself, as reported in Ágrip af Nóregskonunga sngum, where the same syncretism is found: Felldi blót ok blótdrykkjur ok lét í stað koma í vild við lýðinn hátíðadrykkjur jól ok páskar, Jóansmessu mungát ok haustnl at Míkjálsmessu (Bjarni Einarsson 1985: 22).28
Thanks to Martin’s help, King Óláfr’s opponents are unable to oppose the preaching of the king, because they lose the ability to speak. The physical impossibility to reply to Óláfr’s Christian message symbolically depicts the power of the word of God uttered through Óláfr himself. The enemies of the Christian king are defeated thanks to divine intervention, just as Óðinn neutralises his opponents on the battlefield:
Þat kann ec it þriðia, ef mér verðr þnrf mikil haptz við mína heiptmngo: eggiar ec deyfi minna andscota, bítað þeim vápn né velir […] Þat kann ec it fimta, ef ec sé af fári scotinn flein í fólki vaða: flýgra hann svá stint, at ec stnðvigac, ef ec hann siónom of séc (Kuhn 1983: 42).29
A similar story deals with the already cited Eyvindr kelda, who becomes blind as soon as he sees the church where there is the Christian king:
Ok nú ganga þeir af skipum sínum ok upp á eyna ok til þeirar kirkju er konungr ok byskup ok allt kristit fólk var þá at statt. Ok er Eyvindr sá heilaga kirkju, þá varð hann blindr ok allir hans menn.30 (Ólafur Halldorsson 2006: 252-253)
The blindness affecting God’s enemies is present in the Holy Bible, as in the aggression against Lot: “But his guests put out their hands, pulled Lot inside with them, and closed the door; at the same time they struck the men at the entrance of the house, one and all, with such a blinding light that they were utterly unable to reach the doorway” (Genesis 19, 10-11). Even in this case, however, the references in the mythical universe are also precise, as we read in Ynglinga Saga: Óðinn kunni svá gera, at í orrostu urðu óvinir hans blindir (Bjarni Aðalbjanarson 2002, I: 17).31
Other divine interventions to the rescue of Óláfr take place in ways similar to Óðinn’s powers (Lassen 2021), as in the representation of the dominion over natural elements and meteorological conditions: a fierce opponent of the Christian faith, whose name is Hróaldr, is depicted as blótmaðr […] svá mjnk var þessi maðr blekkðr af fjándans teygingu at guðin veittu honum svnr fyrir sinar fórnir (Ólafur Halldorsson 2006: 235).32
Óláfr tries to meet Hróaldr but each time he prepared to set out, he encountered such a headwind that he could not reach the island where Hróaldr lived. According to the saga’s text, Óláfr knew that the winds “were sent against him by the power of the devil” (Andersson 2005: 86).33 The king called on God and immediately a helpful breeze sprang up, but out on the sea two countervailing winds arose.
Here is found the symbolic representation of the clash between opposing supernatural powers; both can unleash the natural elements or appease them. In the MS. S this strife is depicted as if it were a battle in the open:
Þá kómi saman á sjáinn tvennir vindar. Annarr var eptir þeim, góðr byrr, en annarr í móti þeim, ok sem vindarnir berðisk. Ok sá sigraðisk er þeim var hagfelldri.34 (Ólafur Halldorsson 2006: 236)
Christian religion’s establishment requires not only a choice of faith, but also and above all tangible signs that reveal the superiority of the Christian God over the forces of evil. The power over natural elements and meteorological events is, however, in the mythical universe, a prerogative of the supreme deity, as Óðinn says: Ef mic nauðr um stendr, at biarga fari míno á flóti: vind ec kyrri vági á oc svæfic allan sæ (Kuhn 1983: 43).35
This problematic coexistence of mythical elements and biblical references makes useless the attempt to ascribe the saga of Oddr Snorrason to a particular category and, especially, to establish whether it falls under the scope of the sagas of kings or of the lives of saints.
The Óláfs Saga Tryggvasonar, written by the monk Oddr (and by his translators), is a work with uncertain boundaries, and the discussion regarding its belonging to a literary genre appears fruitless. It also threatens to overshadow the true meaning of a text whose hallmarks are precisely its tendency not to follow established patterns, its intrinsic contradictory nature, and its unfulfilled entelechy (ἐντελέχεια), highlighted by the persistent semantic ambivalence of the most significant constituents, by the bizarre syntax, not rarely baroque, and by the lexical kaleidoscope that moves in a geometric Brownian motion into the medium of the text, among courtly anachronisms, Viking reminiscences, and biblical quotations.
The saga, although it deals with a religious problem, does not reject the contribution of tradition and myth. Probably the author and the translators did not feel a drastic rift with the pre-Christian world, such as to justify a full and disdainful refusal. The image of the warrior king, who fearlessly faces his fate of death, knowing that he will not survive the battle, reflects the most original and archaic amor fati of the heroic tradition, permeated with desolate pessimism. In the saga, this pattern is contiguous with that of the Christian king, to whom, however, eternal salvation is given by the Almighty, after a death in bliss in the penitential hermitage.
