Following the Raven Banner

If there is one thing I hope people learned from reading this project it is that the Scandinavian mercenary is a complex historical figure worthy of academic focus. With the exception of scholars like DeVries, Contamine, and Mallett, the discipline is currently content with keeping these men as peripheral figures. Instead of being labeled as important and studied individuals, the Viking mercenary in Medieval History exists almost like a formless mass. Mercenaries are represented as yet another nameless, featureless, band of barbarian pawns on the chessboard of European and Byzantine politics. Why this is the current state of events is a mystery that deserves greater attention. However, after conducting both primary and secondary source research into these men, it is safe to lay some of the blame upon the people who wrote their stories

Early-Medieval annalists and chroniclers made Vikings out to be mindless, war thirsty warriors who cared only for battle and plunder. As a result, up until only the last few decades, Norsemen have received a blood-stained name and are seen by the public as little more than their reputations. In recent years, historians like Anders Winroth have attempted to reverse this process and have had a large amount of success. While the Vikings are still undoubtedly one of the most violent groups to sail the Middle-Aged seas, they did so with a purpose that was driven by cultural, economic and religious factors. Thanks to European chroniclers and more famous individuals like Niccolo Machiavelli, mercenaries have also received a besmirched reputation. Instead of being seen as unique and valuable auxiliary troops, they are lumped in and made a part of the more famous raiding armies or only named in army roll-calls.

This is a problem that this project has attempted to fix through a number of ways. First and foremost, in the Introduction/Historiography essay, there is an argument for creating a new definition of the Scandinavian mercenary to facilitate study and make identifying these sellswords easier. Currently, mercenaries are defined on a very narrow set of requirements which focus around foreignness and monetary payment. Originally created as an umbrella definition for Medieval mercenaries, these terms poorly fit the Scandinavian mercenary who was paid in a variety of forms for an equally diverse list of deeds.

Therefore, the new definition focuses on two keystone characteristics (payment, whether monetary or otherwise and the duration of employment) that were created by synthesizing the ideas of DeVries, Contamine, and Mallet, then alloying and reforging their classifications to create a definition that is tailored custom for the Scandinavian mercenary. By making the identification process more streamlined, it will be easier for other scholars to start discovering more instances of mercenary activity which, in turn, ensures that interest and new scholarship continues to be created on this subject. In addition to the new definition, there is also an attempt to tease out unknown characteristics of the Scandinavian mercenary by examining them in particular geographic locations.

The Scandinavian warrior was one of the most eminent military figures of the Viking Age, and they seem to appear almost anywhere blades crossed. These mercenary men arrived in warbands of varying sizes and were treated differently depending on where they served. For instance, those sellswords that decided to travel to Frankish lands found themselves as the subject of the populace’s ire, a wholly hated figure. They arrived in modest amounts. However, it is likely that they first entered Frankia as raiders instead of mercenaries. This meant that even though the Scandinavian mercenary was despised in Frankia, he was often richly rewarded and did not have to look hard for employment opportunities. Frankish nobles may have hated using Nordic warriors to fight their battles on a personal level, but the tradeoff was often worth it as the Vikings were effective military tools. Alongside their combat prowess, the Vikings were economically devastating to their enemies. A hired band of mercenaries could mount lightning raids that destroyed coastal towns, pillaged centers of trade and kidnapped clergymen before escaping to their longboats and sailing back home with the plunder. The Franko-Norse mercenary never took hold likely because around the ninth century and early tenth centuries Frankish nobles had established a successful defensive strategy that prevented a constant influx of new mercenaries.

While there was fortune and fame to be gained in Frankia, this was not the ideal destination for a Scandinavian mercenary. The ideal place to be employed was the Byzantine Empire. The reasoning behind this decision is best illustrated by the Nordic Varangian Guard, a unique Scandinavian element of the Byzantine military that served a variety of functions: patrolling oceans, escorting caravans, even serving as the personal bodyguards to the emperor. This popularity is directly reflected in the sheer amount of primary source material there is for Scandinavian mercenaries in Byzantium. In addition to the Icelandic Sagas, there are also Byzantine military treatises, Russian chronicles, even the personal recollections of Middle-Eastern travelers most of which take place in the ninth and tenth century. The fundamental distinction between the Varangians and other Nordic mercenaries was that to become a member of the Varangian Guard Scandinavian men had to pay an entrance fee. According to Sigfus Blondal, a historian who specializes on the Varangians, “a high entrance fee will certainly have obtained among them, as their regular pay and extra bonuses alike were way above the emoluments of the rest of the army” (Blondal 2007, 45). During the Viking Age, this mercenary contract was unique to the Byzantine Empire and the Varangian Guard.

The fee itself is interesting because it may have served as a type of paywall that prevented warriors without enough equipment, men, or experience from diluting the regiment’s effectiveness. This indeed may have been why Harald inn Hardradi did not immediately go to Byzantium and instead spent time with Yaroslav the Wise, gathering men and preparing himself for the journey. Regardless, becoming a member of the Varangian Guard was an incredible opportunity once a mercenary made it past the paywall. A prime example of this is Bolli Bollasson, an Icelandic man who after returning from his tour as a Varangian mercenary was now called “Bolli the Grand” by his envious, yet respectful neighbors (Palsson and Magnusson., trans. 1969, 236). Not only was the journey east lucrative, but as Bolli’s newfound title shows, there was a certain element of prestige for having served the Byzantine Emperor; a man respected for his power even in the frozen north.

The Viking mercenary band, if paid appropriately, could be one of the most efficient military tools available in the Early-Medieval lord’s arsenal. Their usefulness was understood and exploited by the Rus, an emerging kingdom that controlled the land and river routes that connected Scandinavia to Byzantium and the Middle-East. Not much is known about the Norse mercenaries who served in Eastern Europe. Instead, the primary sources mostly focus on the Slavic lords who employed them. However, the Rus are important in the grand scheme because they serve as the middlemen between Scandinavian and Byzantium. During the early ninth century, the number of Varangians in Byzantium was minimal. They were all being employed by Rus lords like Igor of Kiev, in raids against the Greeks. These attacks met with mixed success but did establish legal treaties between the two that made it easier for Scandinavian/Rus warriors to find employment in the Byzantine Empire.

In addition to that, Nordic mercenaries were also extremely important in securing the rule of several Rus lords, the most famous of which is likely Vladimir the Great. Nestor’s Russian Primary Chronicle claimed that with these mercenaries Vladimir defeated the Rus lord Rogvolod before marching against his brother Yaropolk in Kiev. However, instead of entering into pitched battle with his brother, Vladimir called for a parlay with Yaropolk. Yet, when the two met, Vladimir had two “two Varangians stabbed him [Yaropolk] in the breast with their swords” (Sherbowitz-Wetzor and Cross 2012, 91-93). This is one of the less discussed benefits that one acquired when hiring Scandinavian mercenaries. By using foreigners who cared little for local politics, a Rus lord could easily employ these men as assassins and eliminate high-value targets with little to no repercussions. According to Blondal, the Byzantines were also aware of this advantage. In addition to the blinding of Michael V by Harald inn Hardradi, Varangians were also allegedly a played a role in assassinating the regent Theoctistus (Blondal 2007, 33). For the most part, so long as the Scandinavian mercenary was paid, there was little they would not do.

Aethelred the Unready was another Viking Age lord who effectively employed Scandinavian mercenaries. While Aethelred frequently bought off raiding armies, he hired the Jomsviking, Thorkell the Tall. This was perhaps the best investment of Aethelred’s life because the Viking mercenary eventually helped to save his city and even the king’s own life from King Sweyn Forkbeard’s 1013 invasion. Thorkell is a perfect example of how drastically different being employed as a Scandinavian mercenary in the Early-Medieval British Isles was to being employed in Frankia. While the Viking sellsword in Frankia was seen as a detestable necessity, Thorkell was actually praised by The Anglo-Saxon Chronicle. It proudly claimed that “then when he [Forkbeard] came to the town [London], the town would not submit but held out against them with full battle because King Aethelred was inside, and Thurkil [Thorkell] with him” (Swanton 1998, 144). In the Early-Medieval British Isles Thorkell fulfills a foreign-hero role that is strongly reminiscent of John Hawkwood, the famous English mercenary who was similarly honored by the Italian city of Florence in the fourteenth century.

The next piece of my thesis which I want to draw attention to is the Environmental Influences Storymap. I am far from the first historian to realize that the environment played a significant role in shaping the Viking Age and I do not know how many other Viking historians are actively using the hard sciences, but I am likely the first to do so in terms of mercenaries. In this section, the focus has been readjusted a bit with a different approach that examines the Nordic sellsword as a global environmental historian.

Like John Aberth, author of An Environmental History of the Middle Ages, this project contends that the environment is an inseparable part of the human narrative. This is particularly the case in Denmark, Norway, and Sweden where “the elements of air and water could be said to have determined the extent of humankind’s exploitation of the earth” (Aberth 2012, 27). Technology and cooperation helped to overcome these limitations. However, during the Viking Age, agricultural developments like the crop rotation system and improved harnesses/ploughs were in their infancy.

Thus, by looking at how the average Scandinavian man was affected by deglaciation and the climatic onset of the Medieval Warm Period, one can obtain a new understanding of what drove these men to leave home and take up the sword. The Scandinavian environment was poorly suited to agricultural life. Natural forces like harsh winters, poor soil composition, and limited sun exposure, all worked together to create a world in which growing crops and subsisting off the land was a poor career choice. Besides that, farming was not profitable or glorious. The Nordic culture undoubtedly puts a high value on the farmer and the role he plays in society, however, if one wanted to make something of oneself, one had to supplement one’s income by either becoming a trader, raider, or mercenary in foreign lands.

One of the biggest problems in researching the Scandinavian mercenary is that it is often hard to discover what motivated these men to take up arms and fight a foreign king’s battles. So far, there are two central, identifiable themes. The first is glory and power. This is best emulated by Harald inn Hardradi and to some extent Thorkell the Tall in Frankia. These warriors became mercenaries to make themselves more powerful and accomplish a much greater goal. With Thorkell it is less clear, Thorkell does not make himself a king or attempt to overthrow one. Yet, despite opposing the Danish, Thorkell seems to have proven his worth and in 1017 is made Jarl of East Anglia by Cnut. If anything, Thorkell simply appears to have less concrete goals, wishing to become powerful for power’s sake with no clear objective in mind.

Meanwhile, Harald inn Hardradi seemed to funnel all his power and resources into one goal: becoming King of Norway again. Harald had a very successful, and perhaps more importantly, profitable, career as a member of the Varangian Guard. Before he could buy his way into the City Guard, he patrolled Byzantine coasts and collected taxes, shaving a little bit off the top each time for himself. According to Snorri Sturluson, author of Harald’s Saga, when Hardradi returned to Novgorod he “took into his own keeping all the gold he had previously sent there from Constantinople, valuable treasure of all kinds. This hoard of wealth was so immense that no man in northern Europe had ever seen the like of it in one man’s possession before” (Magnusson and Palsson 1966, 64). With these funds supporting his battle-hardened troops Harald was easily able to bully his nephew Magnus the Good into making him king over half of Norway.

The second theme is much more simplistic and is primarily centered on wealth and prestige. Men like Harald inn Hardradi and Thorkell the Tall are rarities: unique cases of Viking leaders who exploited their mercenary careers to catalyze and accomplish larger goals. The majority of Scandinavian men who became mercenaries were not men like Harald or Thorkell. Instead, they likely came from more humble stock like the Icelandic Bolli Bollasson. They were men who after a successful career as a mercenary did not seek to make themselves kings or warlords but instead set sail for home and their families. The Swedish runestones detailed in Blondal’s list of Varangian monuments prove that these mercenaries often reinvested their wealth into their own families. For instance, several of the runestones was commissioned by a Swedish woman named Guðlaug for herself and her Varangian son Holmja (Blondal 2007, 226). In addition to the mother-son runestone, there are also uncle-nephew, daughter-father, and several other combinations of extended family members claiming kinship with a lost Varangian Guardsmen.

This shows that those Varangians who managed to send money back home often sent enough that their family could afford purchase luxury goods and commission artisans. In addition to that, it also shows that these mercenaries were important figures, people who the family wanted to be remembered and associated with their name. Others include the theory that the need to obtain wealth in order to marry drove Scandinavian men to find more effective ways of making money. According to Ben Raffield, Mark Collard and Neil Price, “40 per cent of the male population” were unable to marry because of polygamy and wealth stratification (Raffield, Collard and Price 2016, 12). Therefore, in order for these men to obtain enough money to pay the brideprice for their first wife they often had to seek lucrative means of employment such as raiding and mercenary work.

The overall goal of this project is to create interest in this subject and hopefully create some fellow scholars in the process. After all, if there is no one else out there who understands, this website is little more than a glorified notebook on my research interests and findings. This is not the goal of this project. Instead, it hopes that it will fire the flame of interest, help boil up some new questions and encourage new individuals to join the discussion. Without new voices, the study of Scandinavian mercenaries will likely stagnate which would be nothing less than tragic. Without the help of other scholars, some of the most interesting questions may remain unanswered. For instance, did Nordic mercenaries, with their caches of gold and silver, help spread the coin-based economy in Scandinavian? Did they bring Frisian mathematics to Denmark, Norway or Sweden? There are signs which point to yes, but without a more detailed investigation of Scandinavian coin hoards and economic development we may never know. One thing is for certain though, it is impossible for one man to learn and do all of this adequately by themselves. Cooperation is crucial.

With that in mind, one more thing needs to be discussed before drawing this thesis to an end. Only the surface of the Scandinavian mercenary has been scratched, but, during this brief overview, some important themes like wealth, power, and prestige have been connected to the Nordic sellsword. However, due to time constraints, this project was unable to investigate one of the most interesting, and perhaps significant, consequences of Scandinavian mercenaries. The project contends that the Nordic mercenary played a serious role in dispersing foreign culture into Scandinavia when they either sent the luxury goods they obtained home to their loved ones or returned themselves. William Caferro, author of John Hawkwood: An English Mercenary in Fourteenth-Century Italy, already supports this idea in his study of Italian mercenaries. He claims that German economic historians believe “the German mercenaries took home not only profits but also knowledge of Italian business techniques” (Caferro 2006, 344). In addition to Caferro, “the classicist G.B. Nussbaum has equated the mercenary bands of the ancient world with moving city-states” (Caferro 2006, 338). In this same manner, it is possible that Scandinavian mercenaries brought home new military strategies, farming technologies, or political theories when they ended their tour of duty.

One last idea which Caferro proposes while discussing Hawkwood that may have some relevance to Viking mercenaries is that they may have enriched Scandinavia’s economy. For instance, Caferro claimed that “in economic terms, Hawkwood provided a means by which Sienese and Luchhese money was recycled into the Florentine economy” (Caferro 2006, 342). In that same way, Scandinavian mercenaries could have siphoned coinage from the booming economies of Frankia, Byzantium, the Rus, and the Early-Medieval British Isles. To put the cherry on top of this scholarly sundae, Caferro adds that “Hawkwood’s wealth, and mercenary money in general, also had an effect on the English economy” (Caferro 2006, 342). While the author of this project is no numismatician, it is easy to see how someone like Harald inn Hardradi may have had a similar effect on eleventh century Norway. It would be rewarding to investigate these ideas further and discover if there was any correlation between returning Scandinavian mercenary bands and military/technological/agricultural developments.

Alas then, journey’s end approaches but, with some luck, this will not be the end of the story. Instead, this project hopes that this project and conclusion will serve as a lure, attracting more and more scholars to the Nordic sellsword. The Viking mercenary is an extraordinary historical figure who deserves to be studied in much greater detail. Doing so not only will bring light to these men who have until recently been confined to the shadows of history, but it may also help other scholars reach a better understanding of their subject matter as well. Perhaps the Frankish lord that someone is writing a dissertation on hired Scandinavian mercenaries and hurt his reputation? Or maybe there is a Byzantine scholar who wonders how Basil II managed to escape the jaws of defeat in his early reign? Only time will tell. For now, the important thing is that this project has opened the door and turned on the light, turning what was once an abandoned house of historical obscurity into a welcoming home.