16 The Varangian legend: testimony from the Old Norse sources Sverrir Jakobsson •I n the eleventh century there existed, within the great army of the Byzantine empire, a regiment composed mainly of soldiers from Scandinavia and the Nordiccountries. This regiment was known as the Varangian Guard (tagma tōn Varangōn).The purpose of this paper is to assess the impact the existence of this regiment had onprevailing attitudes towards the Byzantine empire within the Old Norse linguistic andcultural community. The Varangian Guard is well known from Byzantine sources of the period. JohnSkylitzes’ chronicle Synopsis historiarum contains one of the earliest references tothe term ‘Varangian’, connected with the events of the year 1034.1 From then on, Va-rangians appear in various sources.2 According to Michael Psellos’ Chronographia, thefounding of the Varangian Guard took place during the reign of Basil II (976–1025),although Psellos calls these soldiers “Tauroscythians” rather than Varangians.3 This hasoften been connected with the evidence of Arabic and Armenian sources, according towhich the nucleus of this regiment was formed by 6,000 mercenaries despatched byPrince Vladimir of Kiev in 989 to help the emperor Basil II quash a rebellion.4 Fromthen on, Scandinavians formed the bulk of the guard, until expatriate Anglo-Sax-ons began to join in large numbers as a result of the Norman invasion of England in1066. From the 1070s onwards, the Varangian Guard became predominantly English.5Among notable Varangians serving the empire during the initial stage, when the force 1 John Skylitzes, Synopsis historiarum 394–95. The chronicle itself was written several decades lat- er. See also above, 53–87. 2 See Morrisson 1981, 131–34; Bibikov 1996, 203. 3 Psell. vol. 1, 9. 4 See Obolensky 1971, 255–56; Poppe 1976. The main source is the Arab Christian writer, Yahya of Antioch (Histoire vol. 2, 423–26). The number 6,000 is from Stephen of Taron, Histoire Univer- selle vol. 2, 164–65. However, Stephen uses the same number on other occasions to denote a large army: ibid., 156. See also Seibt 1992, 297–98. 5 See Ciggaar 1974. 345 346 Sverrir Jakobssonwas predominantly Scandinavian (i.e. from 989 to the 1070s), was a certain Araltes,“son of the king of the Varangians [basileōs men Varangias ēn uios]”, who is mentionedin the Strategikon of Kekaumenos.6 This Araltes has commonly been identified withKing Harald Hardrada of Norway (1046–1066). From sources such as these, it is pos-sible to gain some insight into contemporary Byzantine attitudes about the Norsemen,i.e. the view from the centre to the periphery. The view from the other side is more murky. Almost all our reliable knowledgeabout the Varangians stems from contemporary Greek sources. There is a distinct lackof Latin or Old Norse sources with the same validity. And our Slavonic sources, whichhave mostly been the focus of research into the history of the Varangians before 989,pose their own problems of interpretation.7 Yet there is no dearth of material relatingto the Varangians in Old Norse sources from a later period. In this paper I shall focuson Old Norse sources from the thirteenth and fourteenth centuries, and on how theyshould be interpreted as representations of the contemporary Byzantine empire. Thesesources can be divided into two groups. The first consists of the Kings’ Sagas (Konun-gasögur), narratives dealing with the history of Scandinavian kings, in which there aresections about their relations with the Byzantine empire during the period between theFirst and the Fourth Crusades (1096–1204).8 The second consists of the Kings’ Sagasdealing with an earlier period (the tenth and eleventh centuries), as well as Sagas of theIcelanders (Íslendingasögur). The second group of narratives are set in the heyday of theVarangian Guard; but their problem as sources is that they were composed no sooner,and very often much later, than the Kings’ Sagas of the first group. The purpose of this paper is to delve into the Old Norse narratives containinginformation about the relationship of the Nordic peoples with the Byzantine empireduring these two periods, and to extract from them such facts as are of use for theexploration of the image of the Byzantine empire in the north. The problems underdiscussion here are connected with periodisation, medieval ideas of sovereignty andthe relationship between periphery and centre in an age before the advent of worldsystems. Crusader kings in ConstantinopleFor a brief period in the early twentieth century, the Sagas of the Icelanders seemedto offer an exciting alternative view of the history of the Byzantine empire from theviewpoint of the Varangians themselves. The last manifestation of this optimism wasVæringja saga by the Icelandic scholar Sigfús Blöndal, published posthumously in 1954. 6 Str, ed. and Russian tr. Litavrin, 298–99; ed. and tr. Roueché, 97.06. 7 See the overviews by Stender-Petersen 1953, 5–20 and Rahbeck Schmidt 1970. 8 On the Kings’ Saga genre see Ármann Jakobsson 2005. The Varangian legend 347However, by that time, serious doubts had been raised within saga studies in generalabout the value of these particular narratives, which mainly deal with events in Icelandfrom c. 930–1030, and in which events occurring abroad are mostly extraneous to themain plot. In his heavily edited English translation of Væring ja saga, The Varangians ofByzantium, Benedikt Benedikz offered Blöndal’s scholarship in a thoroughly revisedform, with much more scepticism about the factual accuracy of the accounts.9In Væring ja saga, Blöndal described the relationship between the Scandinaviansand the Byzantines chronologically according to the occurrence of the events recount-ed, rather than following the age of the sources. This view of the sources has been ech-oed by subsequent scholars, often due to their unfamiliarity with the particular prob-lems relating to Old Norse sources.10 This view gives central importance to events andother historical titbits, with the sources of information becoming secondary to the dis-cussion. In order to shift our understanding of this relationship and the developmentof the Old Norse discourse about the Byzantine empire, the emperor and the imperialcity of Constantinople, this order will be reversed, beginning with the oldest sourceswhich deal with more recent periods. The earliest alphabetical texts in the Old Norse literary language are from thetwelfth century. Before then, runic inscriptions were the dominant literary medium inScandinavia, and Scandinavians even left traces of their presence in runic inscriptionsin Constantinople and Athens.11 On the runestones of Norway, Sweden and Gotland,the names of ‘Greekland’ [Grikkland] and the Greeks appear more often than those ofany other land or people.12 Similarly, the terms Grikkland and Grikkir/Girkkir occur inskaldic poetry, which is generally thought to have originated in the eleventh century,for instance at the court of King Harald Hardrada.13 The terminology is interestingin itself, as ‘Graecia’ and ‘Graecus’ were Latin terms which the Byzantines did not usethemselves, and could even in some contexts be seen as pejorative.14 These terms were,however, generally used in Old Norse sources from that time onwards. However, neither skaldic poetry nor runic inscriptions contain longer narratives.These were introduced with the advent of an Old Norse adaptation of the Latin scripton parchment. The earliest literary recordings of dealings between Scandinavians andByzantines are thus necessarily no older than the twelfth century. Yet already at thattime there are references to contemporary Byzantine events. The death of Alexios I 9See VB. 10 See for instance the otherwise very useful overviews by Bibikov 1996 and Ciggaar 1996. 11 See Svärdström 1970; Larsson 1989; above, 187–214. 12 See Shepard 1984–1985, 230; Jansson 1984, 45–51. 13 See Jesch 2001, 99–102. 14 See Kaldellis 2007, 186, 296. 348 Sverrir JakobssonKomnenos in 1118 is recorded in the Íslendingabók of Ari Thorgilsson, which was com-posed sometime between 1122 and 1133.15 In the twelfth century universal history Ver-aldar saga there are records of Byzantine emperors up to the Carolingian period; fromthen onwards, the western emperors are listed instead.16 The expeditions of Scandinavian kings to Constantinople do not receive muchprominence in our twelfth-century narratives. The oldest surviving account of the cru-sade of King Sigurd the Jerusalem-Farer, the Historia de antiquitate regum Norwag-iensium by Theodoricus Monachus (composed c. 1180), does not mention his sojournin Constantinople at all. The oldest surviving account in Old Norse, Ágrip af Nóreg-skonunga sögum (c. 1190) is relatively succinct: He went to Miklagarðr and received great honour from the reception of the emperor and great presents, and he left his ships there to commemorate his stay, and he took a great and valuable figurehead from one of his ships and placed it at the Church of St Peter.17Nevertheless, the emphasis on the honour and gifts received from the emperor ini-tiates a theme echoed in later accounts of this very crusade, the bulkier Kings’ Sagascomposed in the first half of the thirteenth century, for example Morkinskinna andHeimskringla.18 It seems that honour and gifts were the emperor’s to bestow and theNorwegian king’s to receive, which prompts some reflection about their relationship.King Harald had received honorary titles from successive emperors in the 1030s and1040s and, according to the Kings’ Sagas, some decades later his great-grandson re-ceived dignity and presents from Alexios Komnenos. A similar description is given of the journey of the Danish king Eric (d. 1103) to theHoly Land some years earlier in the thirteenth-century Knýtlinga saga.19 This versiondraws upon the poem Eiríksdrápa, composed by the contemporary Icelandic lawspeak-er Markus Skeggjason (d. 1107), in which the various dignities bestowed upon Eric byforeign kings are enumerated at some length. Although Eric seems to have benefittedfrom being associated with the monarchs of France and Germany, the greatest digni-ty which he received was—according to the poem—from “the lord himself ” (harrasjölfum) in Miklagarðr. Gold, clothes and fourteen warships are listed among the giftsgranted to Eric.20 In the narrative in Knýtlinga saga, the dignities that Eric and Sigurd 15 Landnámabók 25. 16 Veraldar saga 69–70. 17 Ágrip af Nóregskonunga sögum 48–49. 18See Mork. vol. 2, 71–100 and Heimskringla 239–54. On the Morkinskinna version see Ármann Jakobsson 2013. The version of Heimskringla is discussed briefly by Fledelius 1996, 215. 19 Danakonunga sögur 232–39. 20 Norsk-islandske skjaldedigtning 419. The Varangian legend 349received from the emperor become the subject of direct comparison, the gold offeredto Eric being contrasted with the games the emperor held for the Norwegian king inthe Hippodrome in Constantinople, “and opinion is divided upon which choice wasconsidered more noble”.21 The same attitude toward the emperor and his court is noticeable in Orkneyingasaga, an early thirteenth-century account of the pilgrimage of Earl Ragnvald in 1153–1155. A man named Eindridi the Young (ungi), who had served for a long time as amercenary in Constantinople, encourages the earl to travel to the Holy Land and notto be content simply to listen to stories from there. He argues that the earl will be “mostrespected, when you arrive there into the company of noblemen”.22 The pursuit of hon-our is thus made into the principal purpose of this pilgrimage. Following an adventur-ous journey, Ragnvald arrives in Constantinople to acclaim from “the emperor andthe Varangians”. The emperor Manuel I Komnenos (1143–1180) gives Ragnvald andhis companions “a great amount of money and offered them mercenaries’ payment, ifthey wished to remain there. They stayed a long time through the winter in altogethersplendid revelry”.23 However, Ragnvald and his men choose to return, and in the end itis noted that they were considered to be much worthier men after this pilgrimage thanthey had been before. The account of the reception of the earl by the emperor is muchbriefer in Orkneyinga saga than in Morkinskinna, Heimskringla and Knýtlinga saga, andthe gifts given by the emperor are referred to in the context of mercenary pay. Mentionis also made of the Varangian Guard, perhaps as a suitable regiment for the service ofany Scandinavian mercenaries. When seen in this light, the chrysobull sent by Alexios III Angelos (1195–1203)to the monarchs of Norway, Denmark and Sweden in 1196 seeking their military assis-tance is not very surprising.24 The Byzantine emperor could confidently expect thesekings to be well disposed towards the empire, and at the very least putative allies inwars against its enemies.25 Is it possible to read more into this chrysobull and regard therelationship between the emperor and the Scandinavian kings as that between a liegelord and his vassals? It is certainly the case that this was a unilateral relationship, for theemphasis in the Old Norse is on dignities and gifts granted by the emperor, never onan exchange of gifts, as between monarchs of more equal stature. However, there is no 21 Danakonunga sögur 237. See also the version in Saxo Grammaticus, Gesta Danorum vol. 2, 74–83. 22 Orkneyinga saga 194. 23 Orkneyinga saga 236. 24 Sverris saga 192–94. 25 In the Historia de profectione Danorum in Hierosolymam, which describes the participation of a group of Danes and Norwegians in the Third Crusade, the emperor Isaac II Angelos is said to have hired some of these crusaders as mercenaries on their way home. See SMHD vol. 2, 490. This event occurred a few years before 1196. 350 Sverrir Jakobssonconclusive proof that the Byzantine emperor did regard the Nordic kings as anythingmore than junior partners within a larger community of sovereigns, in which the em-peror of Rome was bound to be pre-eminent. It is also evident that the Scandinaviankings accepted the emperor’s pre-eminence and considered it an honour to visit himand pay their respects. Some of the sources for the travels of these Scandinavian crusad-ers give a clear indication that the emperor was regarded as the foremost monarch inChristendom. This is implied by the turn of phrase in the Eiríksdrápa of Markus Skeg-gjason (noted above, 348), and more indirectly by the relative importance placed onthe visit to Constantinople in all of the aforementioned accounts. The overwhelmingly positive relationship between the Byzantine emperor andvarious Scandinavian monarchs during the twelfth century is interesting in itself.26 Butwhat is also noteworthy is that the image of the Byzantine empire in Old Norse sourceswas not subject to radical shifts after this period. The state of the empire following thedebacle of the Fourth Crusade receives scant attention in Scandinavian sources. Verylittle attention was paid to the religious schism between the empire and Latin Christi-anity. In fact, the existence of such a schism seems to have been news to the Icelanderswhen they learnt of its putative resolution at the Council of Lyon in 1274!27 In OldNorse sources, little effort was made to make sense of the new political realities in theBalkans and Asia Minor in the thirteenth and fourteenth centuries. Instead, their his-toriographers’ attention turned towards a past more distant than the twelfth century,the period of the Varangian Guard. Emperors and kingsOlaf Tryggvason (995–1000), the king of Norway associated with the Christianisationof Norway, Iceland and Greenland, was a character of great importance within OldNorse historiography and his reign is usually seen as marking a watershed between thepagan and Christian periods. In the late twelfth-century Ólafs saga Tryggvasonar, Olafis also cast as the person who introduced Christianity to Rus. Even if hardly a reliablesource for events two hundred years earlier, this account is nevertheless an early exam-ple of how the Christianisation of Scandinavia was connected with events in the east.28In the narrative, Olaf is made out to be the chief missionary to Rus, actually travelling 26 The common scholarly opinion has been that the ‘special relationship’ between Scandinavians and the Byzantine empire ceased during the crusading period: Bagge 1990, 172. 27 See Sverrir Jakobsson 2008a, 175. 28 Jan Ragnar Hagland regards four Norwegian kings as having “strong, personal contacts” with the east, beginning with Olaf Tryggvason in 995: see Hagland 2005, 154. The Varangian legend 351to the Byzantine empire in order to bring missionaries from there.29 But although Ólafssaga Tryggvasonar links Olaf with the Byzantine empire through his mission work anddepicts him as the noble servant of two great eastern monarchs, Prince Vladimir ofKiev and King Boleslaw of Poland, no attempt is made to connect him with the Va-rangian Guard. The main reason for this is probably that another Norwegian king,Harald Hardrada, was already renowned for his Varangian connections. As noted above (346), King Harald’s exploits in the Byzantine empire are men-tioned by contemporary authors such as Kekaumenos. Harald is also the subject ofsome discussion in the Gesta Hammaburgensis ecclesiae pontificum by Adam of Bremen,written sometime in the 1070s. Concerning Harald’s youth, Adam is quite laconic, sim-ply stating: “He was a powerful and triumphant man, who had formerly participatedin several wars against barbarians in Greece and the regions of Scythia”.30 The oldestsurviving history of the Norwegian kings, the Historia de antiquitate regum Norwag-iensium of Theodoricus Monachus, also mentions that Harald came to Norway from‘Grecia’ and carried home with him great treasure. His exploits abroad are summarisedthus: This Harald had performed many bold deeds in his youth, overthrowing many heathen cit- ies and carrying off great riches in Rus and in Ethiopia (which we call Bláland in our mother tongue). From there he travelled to Jerusalem and was everywhere greatly renowned and vic- torious. After he had travelled through Sicily and taken much wealth by force there, he came to Constantinople. And there he was arraigned before the emperor; but he inflicted enough shameful humiliation upon that same emperor and, making an unexpected escape, he slipped away.31As noted by scholars, this narrative seems to be based partly on skaldic poems whichwere later used in more voluminous works in Old Norse, such as Morkinskinna andHeimskringla. The anecdote about a quarrel with the emperor corresponds to a degreewith the tale told by Kekaumenos: Harald wished in the time of the emperor Monomachos to get royal permission to return to his own land, but it was not forthcoming. Indeed, the road out was obstructed. Yet he slipped away and took the throne in his own country in place of his brother Olaf.32However, the details of the quarrel are different, as in the Historia de antiquitate regumNorwagiensium Harald seems to have been the subject of some accusation and appearsto have somehow disgraced the emperor in making his getaway. Apart from Kekau- 29 Ólafs saga Tryggvasonar 40–42. On the historical value of this account see Jackson 2011, 121–24. 30 Adam of Bremen, Gesta 346. On the concept of Scythia see Janson 2011, 46–49. 31 Monumenta Historica Norvegicae 57. 32 Str, ed. and Russian tr. Litavrin, 300–01; ed. and tr. Roueché, 97.22–25. 352 Sverrir Jakobssonmenos, the only source earlier than Theodoricus to mention this incident is the Gestaregum Anglorum by William of Malmesbury, who suggests that Harald had defiled anoble lady (which might explain the words “probrosa ignominia”).33 Harald’s Sicilianexpedition is also mentioned by Kekaumenos and his wars in Rus might correspond towhat Adam of Bremen calls the region of the Scythians, but neither eleventh-centurysource mentions Harald warring in Ethiopia. Nor was this exciting detail taken up bythe more extensive narratives composed about Harald in the thirteenth century. Legends connected with Harald Hardrada were elaborated in the thirteenth-cen-tury Kings’ Sagas such as Morkinskinna and Heimskringla. They use the skaldic poemsmore extensively and provide greater detail on central events such as the invasion ofSicily, in which Harald is portrayed as a rival of the Byzantine general George Mani-akes.34 An interesting variation is provided by Saxo Grammaticus, who describes Har-ald fighting a dragon in a Byzantine dungeon.35 Nevertheless, the main outline of theplot is the one provided by Theodoricus, and it focuses on certain details.36 The first isthe immense wealth gathered by Harald during his service with the Byzantine emperor.The second concerns the intrigues which made him leave Constantinople in a clandes-tine manner. By contrast, the narrative concerning Olaf Tryggvason focuses on religious mat-ters. By making this apostle to the north also responsible for bringing Christianity toRus, Icelandic historiographers forged a clear link between eastern and western Chris-tianity, an idea which kept its appeal throughout the middle ages and figures promi-nently in works from the last quarter of the fourteenth century. These two kings were both active in the period when Nordic warriors were pre-dominant in the Varangian Guard. Their stories served as prototypes for accounts ofless prominent persons who were said to have served the Byzantine emperor. Thesewere mainly Icelanders, and the accounts of them were written down slightly later thanthe tales about King Olaf and Harald, mainly in the thirteenth and fourteenth centu-ries. The development of this ‘Varangian legend’ will be examined further in the fol-lowing section. 33 William of Malmesbury, Gesta regum Anglorum vol. 1, 261. 34 Mork. vol. 1, 84–118; Heimskringla 69–91. 35 Saxo Grammaticus, Gesta Danorum vol. 2, 10–13. See Fledelius 1996, 213–14. 36 The view of Harald and his relationship with the empire could, however, vary from source to source; see for example Bagge 1990, 179–90. The Varangian legend 353 Legends of the VarangiansThe body of literature commonly known as the Sagas of the Icelanders (Íslendingasögur)had its heyday in the thirteenth and fourteenth centuries. The earliest known exampleswere composed in the second quarter of the thirteenth century, in the wake of thelarge compilations of Kings’ Sagas such as Morkinskinna and Heimskringla. It has evenbeen suggested that the Sagas of the Icelanders were originally elaborations of shorterepisodes dealing with Icelanders at the Norwegian court. This conjecture is supportedby the fact that some of the earliest known sagas feature the exploits of Icelanders whowere, at least at some point in their careers, retainers of the Norwegian king.37 By thesecond half of the thirteenth century the evolution of the sagas was well under way,with notable examples such as Laxdœla saga, Heiðarvíga saga and Brennu-Njáls sagabeing composed in this period. Most Sagas of the Icelanders are set in the decades before and after the introduc-tion of Christianity in Iceland, an event which has traditionally been dated to the year999. The Christianisation then serves as a chronological and structural turning pointin the sagas, creating a divide between the old pagan times and the new and improvedcustoms introduced by the Christian faith. It is evident that as a history of particularevents, the sagas are of limited value since the action takes place two or three hundredyears before the time of their composition.38 There are, however, reasons for those studying Old Norse views of the Byzantineempire to be interested in this genre. It so happens that this chronological structureplaces the action of the sagas within the period when the Varangian Guard was at itspeak, at least from the point of view of Scandinavians. It thus became a common narra-tive device to locate characters, who for some reason had to be removed from the thrustof the action in Iceland, at the court of the most glorious monarch in Christendom,the Byzantine emperor. There, the exploits of these characters were usually not listed inmuch detail, as it could be taken for granted that they had been exalted by serving sucha noble master. If of little value as factual sources about the fate of particular individuals, what isthe historical value of the Varangian episodes in the Sagas of the Icelanders? Are theynothing more than literary topoi? This is surely not the case, seeing that literary stere-otypes can shed light on a society’s thought processes. The reason why the Varangianmotif was so popular in this particular genre is linked to the Byzantine empire’s posi-tion within the prevalent worldview of medieval Icelanders, and to a large degree ofother Scandinavians as well. 37 See Bjarni Einarsson 1961. 38 For an overview of the genre see Vésteinn Ólason 2005. 354 Sverrir JakobssonSince Iceland is central to the saga genre, Varangians usually appear in two contexts:either as men who have served in the guard but have returned to Iceland; or as protag-onists who have to leave Iceland and seek their fortune elsewhere, in this case in Con-stantinople. Different motifs are used according to the different contexts. One of the earliest instances of the first motif is in Hallfreðar saga, an early thir-teenth-century text which became part of a saga cycle connected with Olaf Trygg-vason. In this case, the eponymous hero is courting a woman who is betrothed to awealthy and popular farmer called Gris Sæmingsson: “he had travelled abroad all theway to Miklagarðr and received much honour there”.39 Gris’ past is only referred to onone occasion, when Hallfred is about to duel with him, but is discouraged by the deathof King Olaf. Gris proves surprisingly sympathetic to his plight and refuses to considerthis an act of cowardice: “It is not so, I had less honour from the emperor and yet Iconsidered it a great event when I lost my lord; the love towards a liege lord is fiery”.40In their different ways, both Hallfred and Gris exemplify the ideal of service to a noblelord. It is not evident from the saga whether the wealth and social position of Gris arerelated to his former service with the emperor, but this is stated more clearly in twoother thirteenth-century texts, Laxdœla saga and Hrafnkels saga Freysgoða. In the for-mer, young Bolli Bollason travels abroad and visits the courts of Norway and Den-mark. He then continues until he reaches Constantinople: He spent a brief time there until he acquired for himself a place in the Varangian Guard; we have not heard any tales of a Northman joining the service of the emperor before Bolli Bollason did. He spent very many winters in Miklagarðr and was considered the stoutest fellow in all hardship and always closest to the front ranks. Varangians had a high opinion of Bolli, while he was at Miklagarðr.41All this is just a prelude to his return to Iceland, when great emphasis is placed on theglitz and glamour accompanying the return of a Varangian to his northern homeland: Bolli brought out with him much wealth, and many gems that dignitaries had given him. Bolli was such a richly-adorned fellow when he came back from this journey that he would wear no clothes but of scarlet or silk, and all his weapons were gilded: he was called Bolli the courteous. He made it known to his shipmates that he was going west to his own region, and he left his ship and goods in the hands of his crew. Bolli rode from the ship with eleven men, and all his fol- lowers were dressed in scarlet, and with gilded saddles, even though Bolli was peerless among them. He had on the silken clothes which the emperor had given him, he had around him a scarlet cape; and he had the sword Fótbítr [Foot- or Leg-Biter] girt on him, the hilt of which was ornamented with gold, and the grip woven with gold. He had a gilded helmet on his head, and a red shield on his flank, with a knight painted on it in gold. He had a lance in his hand, as is the 39 Vatnsdœla saga, Hallfreðar saga, Kormáks Saga 144. 40 Vatnsdœla saga, Hallfreðar saga, Kormáks Saga 192. 41 Laxdœla saga 214–15. The Varangian legend 355 custom in foreign lands; and wherever they took quarters the women paid heed to nothing but gazing at Bolli and his ornaments, and those of his followers. 42This kind of conspicuous wealth is reminiscent of reports of the great treasure of Har-ald Hardrada in the Kings’ Sagas; the wealth of Byzantium seems even greater in thecontext of medieval Iceland. But the value of his jewellery was more than just that ofprecious stones and metals in general. There was also symbolic value in the fact thatmost of these precious things were presents from a noble master. In that sense, Bolli isno different from Gris Sæmingsson, although his conspicuous showmanship is a far cryfrom the quiet dignity of the latter. Both gained in honour and wealth by associatingwith the noble lord in Constantinople.In Hrafnkels saga Freysgoða, a text from the last quarter of the thirteenth centu-ry, two secondary characters are returned Varangians. One is the brother of the maincharacter’s chief antagonist, a person by the name of Eyvind Bjarnason. He was a sailorwho went “abroad and ended in Miklagarðr, where he was much honoured by the kingof the Greeks, and he stayed there for a while”.43 When he returns after seven yearshe wears coloured clothes and has a fine shield, and he had “educated himself a greatdeal and had become the bravest of men”.44 Another character in the saga, ThorkellThjostarsson, had also been abroad for seven years “and gone to Miklagarðr, but I amnow a retainer of the emperor”.45 Neither of them displays any conspicuous wealth and,although they evidently gained some social prestige from their stay in Constantinople,neither of them is elevated to the lofty heights of Bolli Bollason.46 Do the fates of these characters, portrayed in historical narratives composed muchlater than the time in which in the events took place, bear any relationship with thoseof actual Varangians? In the thirteenth century, memories of people returning fromMiklagarðr were perhaps not so faint. In 1217 Sturla Sighvatsson, the eighteen-year-oldson of a chieftain, gained some notoriety when he tried to take a sword from a localfarmer and managed to wound him seriously in the process. In this, he was quietly en-couraged by his father.47 But why were this father and son prepared to disturb the peacein the region for the sake of a sword? The artefact in question was called Brynjubítr,‘Mail-Biter’, and had been brought from Constantinople by a person known as Sigurd 42 Laxdœla saga 224–25. For a comparison, see below, 363–87. 43 Austfirðinga sögur 100. 44 Austfirðinga sögur 125. 45 Austfirðinga sögur 111. 46 According to Sigfús Blöndal, the evidence for the existence of these two men is of no historical value: SB, 310–11. He was, however, much more inclined to accept the existence of Gris Sæmings- son. But, as argued above, the main value of these narratives about individual Varangians is as evidence of the prevailing view of the Byzantine empire in thirteenth-century Iceland. 47 Sturlunga saga vol. 1, 261. 356 Sverrir Jakobssonthe Greek (grikkr).48 This man had participated in dramatic events in the region sometwenty years earlier, by which time he had already acquired his nickname. Sigurd’s mostnotable achievement in these battles had been to save a wealthy farmer by herding himinto a church “and then he stood before the church and proclaimed that he woulddefend it, as long as he was able to stand”.49 While not of the highest rank in Iceland,Sigurd was evidently remembered as a valiant man and a defender of Christian values.Although the Varangian Guard is not mentioned in connection with Sigurd, he hadclearly served in Constantinople in some way and had brought home a sword as proof,an artefact coveted by noble lords after his death. There are also several examples in the sagas of characters who end their careers inthe Varangian Guard, having left their troubles behind in Iceland. The narratives con-cerning them are usually quite laconic, as events abroad seldom form the main plot inthe sagas. In the early thirteenth-century Heiðarvíga saga, two men seek their fortunein Constantinople at different times following troubles in Iceland. One of them, Gestr,has slain a noble chieftain and is pursued by the chieftain’s son, Thorstein. Their jour-ney ends in Miklagarðr, where Gestr joins the Varangian Guard. Thorstein finds himthere and wounds him during a wrestling match. The Varangians want to kill Thorsteinfor violating the rules of the contest, but Gestr intercedes and even pays for Thorstein’sjourney home. In return, Thorstein promises to stop his pursuit, provided that Gestrwill not return to the Nordic countries (Norðrlönd).50 Later in the saga, Bardi Gudmundarson is exiled following a series of killings. Hevisits the kings of Norway and Denmark, returns to Iceland and is married there, butthen returns to Norway, where he divorces his wife. Finally, he travels to Rus (Garðaríki)and eventually joins the Varangian Guard: and all the Northmen thought highly of him, and held him in great affection. Every time the kingdom needed to be defended, he took part in the expedition and became known for his hardiness and had a large regiment of men around him. Bardi spent three winters there and received great honour from the king and all the Varangians.51He is eventually killed against overwhelming odds, in an unspecified battle. Another important saga character connected with the Varangian Guard was Kol-skegg, brother of the famous Gunnar from Hlíðarenda, who is one of the central char- 48 For a comparison, see below, 363–87. 49 Sturlunga saga vol. 1, 208. The notion of church sanctity was heavily contested in Iceland in the 1190s, see Sverrir Jakobsson 2008b. 50 Borgfirðinga sögur 243–44. A similar pursuit occurs in the Grettis saga, in a form heavily influ- enced by Romance literature. See Guðmundur Andri Thorsson 1990. As this text may be of very late date (early fifteenth century) it will not be discussed here. 51 Borgfirðinga sögur 325. The Varangian legend 357acters in the Brennu-Njáls saga. Gunnar dies a heroic death after tragically refusinga settlement to go into exile for three years. Kolskegg, who has loyally supported hisbrother throughout his adventures, decides to honour the settlement and leaves Ice-land, eventually joining the court of the Danish king Sven Forkbeard: One night Kolskegg dreamed that a man approached him; a radiant man, who woke him up, saying: “Arise and come with me.” “What do you want of me?” asked Kolskegg, to which the man replied “I will give you a bride, and you shall be my knight.” Kolskegg believed he had agreed to this, whereupon he awoke. Kolskegg consulted a wise man about the dream, who interpreted it as meaning he would travel to southern lands and become the knight of God. Kolskegg was baptised in Denmark, but did not like it there, so travelled east to Rus, where he wintered. He then voyaged to Miklagarðr, where he entered service. The last that was heard of Kolskegg was that he had taken a wife in Miklagarðr; becoming the leader of a Varangian band and remaining there until his dying day. He is now out of this story.52The story of Kolskegg has markedly Christian overtones. By serving in the VarangianGuard, Kolskegg has become a knight of the Lord. It is possible to identify a certain dichotomy based on these examples. Those whoreturn from the empire gain great wealth and even greater glory from serving the nobleemperor (most notably Bolli Bollason). They mirror Harald Hardrada, the prototypefor examples of immense wealth from the east. Those who end their lives as Varangiansachieve an advantage, either in reputation (such as Bardi Gudmundarson) or in be-coming a knight of God (such as Kolskegg). Here, the parallel is closer to Olaf Trygg-vason, who reportedly ended his life as a hermit “in Greece, the Holy Land and Syria”.53 A View from the peripheryIn the nineteenth and early twentieth centuries, those episodes in the sagas that men-tion the Byzantine empire received much scholarly attention. The main focus of schol-ars such as Gustav Storm and Sigfús Blöndal was to establish whether the Old Norsesources contained reliable information about the history of the Byzantine empire andto ascertain the facts relating to the Varangian Guard in the tenth and eleventh cen-turies.54 As the sagas’ credibility as sources about the distant past began to diminish,so did interest in these episodes. It can, however, be argued that the main value of thesagas’ evidence is as a source for the Old Norse world itself, especially its prevailingattitudes and mentalities. First, there is the question of the relationship of Nordic monarchs to the Byzan-tine emperor. It has often been noted that early medieval ideas of sovereignty revolvedto a degree around “the legal axiom embodied in the Corpus Juris Civilis, namely that 52 Brennu-Njáls saga 197. 53 Ólafs saga Tryggvasonar 242. 54 See Storm 1884 and SB. 358 Sverrir Jakobssontheoretically, the emperor was lawful overlord and supreme monarch of Europe: everyking and prince was inferior to him”.55 According to the testimony of the Kings’ Sa-gas, this was the prevailing view in the Old Norse world of the twelfth and thirteenthcenturies. Nevertheless, neither the Byzantine empire nor the Nordic states can becharacterised as ‘feudal’ at this time. The bond between the emperor and the Scandi-navian monarchs was not that of a lord and his vassals; it was more a symptom of thefragmented sovereignty characterising society in general. In the middle ages, ultimatesovereignty had an ultimate source—God himself—and the Byzantine emperor couldbe seen as one of his most distinguished representatives. Thus, service to the emperorwas also service to a higher Lord, as exemplified by Kolskegg’s dream. From a Byzantine viewpoint, the relationship between the empire and othercountries was not, and could not be, a relationship between equals. It was axiomatic toByzantine political thinking that their emperor was the kosmokrator—the lord of theworld; and, as seen in the De cerimoniis, by the tenth century they had developed theconcept of a hierarchy of subordinate states, revolving in obedient harmony aroundthe throne of the universal autocrat in Constantinople. Within his own lands a princecould be a fully sovereign ruler, but in relation to the empire he occupied a subordinateposition in the hierarchical structure of the Commonwealth.56 The relationship between Nordic Varangians and the Byzantine empire also raisesthe issue of periphery and centre. Questions concerning peripheries and centres havebeen key to the study of development theory in the past few decades. Usually, howev-er, the focus has been on economic relations between areas. In his seminal study onworld-systems, Immanuel Wallerstein defines a world-system as “an economic but not apolitical entity”, in contrast to political empire, which he regards as a “primitive meansof economic domination”.57 According to Wallerstein, an economic system depends ona system of government which directs the flow of economic goods from the peripheryto the centre. The medieval period, in Wallerstein’s view, was characterised by the absenceof such a system. In the twelfth century there existed “a series of empires and smallworlds”.58 Since then, Janet Abu-Lughod’s study of medieval world-systems has modi- 55 Ullmann 1949, 3. See also André Grabar’s theory about the ‘Family of Princes’: “for the pious Emperor of Byzantium, God is simultaneously Father and Brother, head of the army and com- rade in arms, He Who in time of war ensures victories and in time of peace just government. Above all, for the Emperor God is a friend; the basileus has the Master of the universe as a friend, and as a result—are not the goods of friends common?—the basileus who is loved by God be- comes a universal sovereign himself ” (Grabar 2007, 5). 56 See Obolensky 1970. 57 Wallerstein 1974, 15. 58 Wallerstein 1974, 17. The Varangian legend 359fied this simplistic picture of the medieval economy. In the view of Abu-Lughod, therewere a number of such world-systems in the thirteenth and fourteenth centuries, butno single system exercised hegemonic power over the others.59 While the Scandinaviancountries were on the periphery of the European economy during most of the middleages, the same cannot be said of the Byzantine empire. Firstly, gold coins struck in theempire were long the preferred specie for international transactions. Until the secondhalf of the thirteenth century, Venetian and Genoese merchants used gold coins fromConstantinople or Egypt rather than striking their own.60 And secondly, Constantino-ple was Christendom’s largest and most prosperous city and the gateway to CentralAsia. It is thus no wonder that Venetian merchants coveted and benefitted from con-trolling trade with Constantinople, extracted trading concessions from the emperor inthe eleventh century, and then conquered the City in the Fourth Crusade.61 This revision of history leaves north-western Europe as a very marginal area ineconomic terms for much of the time. Even from Wallerstein’s Eurocentric perspective,Europe as a whole cannot be regarded as a hegemonic power during the middle ages.As already conceded by Wallerstein, north-western Europe did not simply have a sub-sistence economy, and its social relations grew out of the disintegration of the Romanempire. In Wallerstein’s words, “The myth of the Roman empire still provided a certaincultural and even legal coherence to the area. Christianity served as a set of parame-ters within which social action took place. Feudal Europe was a ‘civilisation’, but not aworld-system.”62 This murky entity—‘civilisation’—amounts to the cultural and legal coherenceprovided by the myth of empire, and to the parameters set by the church that definedChristendom. There can be no doubt that both the Roman empire and the Christianchurch were of enormous importance for defining the identities of those who sawthemselves as belonging to this world. And yet it seems facile to think of this entity assomething other than a world-system. How can the expansion of Europe in the elev-enth, twelfth and thirteenth centuries be explained, if not in economic terms? Whatwas different, however, was the relative importance of culture and the economy withinthis system. If Scandinavia was on the periphery, the nature of that peripheral status is opento debate. Was it mainly political, cultural or economic? The most important studieson centres and peripheries concentrate on their economic aspects, but that leaves therelationship between centres and peripheries within medieval Christianity largely un- 59 Abu-Lughod 1989, 32–38. 60 Abu-Lughod 1989, 15, 67. 61 Abu-Lughod 1989, 105, 119. 62 Wallerstein 1974, 17–18. 360 Sverrir Jakobssonaccounted for. Even if it did not constitute an economic world-system, there existed aunity within the Catholic world of the middle ages, provided by the church and thelegacy of the Roman empire. Rome, Jerusalem and Constantinople were the culturaland political centres of this entity. The distance of the north from the political, cultural and economic centres hadto be compensated for. A journey to the centres of power could increase the culturalcapital of the participants. It is a topos in narratives describing such journeys that theprestige of those who went on them increased. This was reflected in several ways. Forinstance, a person who had spent time with foreign dignitaries was supposed to haveadopted good manners. He had adapted himself to the manners of noble men. It wasalso an advantage to be able to show tokens of the respect one had gained at the handsof foreign potentates, and gifts from a noble lord usually served as such tokens. Thegilded exuberance of Bolli Bollason becomes very understandable from such a perspec-tive. ConclusionA ‘history of the Varangian Guard’, based mostly or entirely on Old Norse sources,will necessarily be the story of a legend. The legend of the Varangians which has beenpreserved in texts from the thirteenth and fourteenth centuries was to some degree areflection of the past. However, that past was probably not the heyday of the Varangi-an Guard, but rather the experiences of crusaders in the twelfth century. Significantly,the thirteenth-century fragmentation of the Byzantine empire never became solidlyanchored in the Old Norse works that form the textual basis of the present analysis. The Varangian legend revolved around a few major themes. One was the wealthand prestige to be had through service to the emperor. The prototypical Varangian inthis sense was Harald Hardrada, with his vast treasure; but less exalted travellers, suchas the relatively obscure Sigurd the Greek, who lived in the north of Iceland around1200, also had the capacity to bring home tokens of their service, encapsulated in asword that local magnates considered worth fighting for. However, the road from Con-stantinople to the north went both ways, and the fates of those destined to end theirlives in the Byzantine empire also became part of the Varangian legend. 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