Introduction: Paganism and Early Christianity in N. Europe P.1.

In order to understand the process of conversion and Christianization, it will be necessary to develop an understanding of the pre-Christian Icelandic mythic structure upon which Christian forces acted in order to initiate conversion and Christianization. Critical issues concerning these events abound, and the sources that discuss the early history have been scrutinized for their validity. 1

An important preliminary question is whether belief should stand as a viable subject of inquiry in regards to the conversion of Iceland. The majority of scholars have chosen to approach the conversion and Christianization of Iceland either from a social or (primarily) political perspective. These analyses reveal a great deal, and source material does not as easily lend itself to an analysis of belief. Nevertheless, without some understanding of the development of belief throughout the process of Iceland's development during this period, the understanding of Iceland's conversion and Christianization remains incomplete.2 Only Jon Hnefill Aalsteinsson’s research3 offers an account of the function of belief in pre-conversion Iceland and in the conversion process, but as thorough as Jon Hnefill's works is, it reaches little beyond the events of 999-1 000. Some consideration must be given to whether belief can be regarded as a subject of inquiry throughout the entire Christianization process. These conversion events, while obviously of great import in terms of social and political history, also instigate a disruption in the Icelandic mythic structure, a disruption that develops throughout the Christianization process. The results of this disruption, is further enforced by the Christian teachings and can be observed in medieval N.European literature and later folklore.

References to early Christians in Iceland can be found in islendingabok, by Ari innfrooi porgilsson (1067-1148) and Landnamabok.4 islendingabok, the earliest of the two texts, states that when the first travelers came to Iceland, Irish monks lived in the land: pli varn her menn kristnir, peir er Norsmenn kalla Papa, en peir foro sfsan Ii braut, af pvf at peir vildu eigi vera her vis heisna menn, ok letu eftir bickr irskar ok bjollur ok bagla. Af pvf Matti skilja, at jeir varn menn irskir. (5)

There were Christians here then, whom the Norwegians called Papar, but they then left because they did not want to be here with heathen people, and they left behind Irish books, bells, and crosiers. Thus it can be surmised that they were Irish men.

An obviously related passage in the prologue of Landnamabok states that Norwegians were not the first to come to Iceland. Before the first settlers arrived,varn par peir menn, er Norsmenn kalla papa; peir varn menn kristnir, ok hyggja menn, at peir hafi verit vestan urn haf, pvi at fundusk eptir peim bickr irskar, bjollur ok baglar ok eon fleiri hlutir, peir er pat matti skilja, at peir varn Vestmenn. (31-32)there were men there, whom the Northmen call papar; they were Christian men, and men think that they had come over the sea from the west, because they found Irish books, bells, crosiers, and more things, so it must be certain that they were from the British Isles.

In recent years doubt has been raised as to the validity of these passages,5 since no archaeological evidence has been found to support Ari's claim.6 Nevertheless, the passage does imply something about how the history was perceived in Ari's time, a perception which Landnamabok both confirms and perpetuates. The texts would thus offer a kind of retrospective validation to the country's conversion: If Christian monks were there before pagans, the logic would go, then the country "belonged" to Christ even before it belonged to Norsemen. Additionally, the circumstances of the monks departure foreshadow other references to early Christians (see the discussion of Auor below, for instance), and from the perspective of folk belief, the monks in this passage prefigure the struggle and anxiety between pagan Norsemen and the Christian contingent that would eventually take over.

Other references to belief in Landnamabok are mixed in perspective, some seeming to support a Christian perspective and others a pagan one. Very often these stories possess elements of the fantastic and folk motifs, but even so, the stories should  not be dismissed as holding no historical value. Regardless of any verifiable historicity of the stories (some appear to be more historical than others), the narrator never discredits the events, suggesting that at least he believes in their historicity, and furthermore, the narrator expects his audience to believe in their historicity as well. We can use the narrator's perspective on the recorded events to learn something about belief, both before and leading up to the composition of Landnamabok.7 While the narrators of the book articulate the events therein from a Christian worldview, they often do not betray any overt hagiographic leanings either for or against a particular belief of either kind. The mixed narrative perspective on these stories rather indicates that, while the Christian worldview dominates the contextualization of these events, it does not run contrary to that worldview, either religiously or logically, when events are reported that reveal the potency of pagan belief from earlier times.

In chapter twenty-four we are told of the Christian Asolfr, who would not even eat the food of the heathen men. The story contains obvious folk motifs. Asolfr is said to have lived in Osum, kept to himself, and not bothered with anyone. Neighbors begin to wonder how he gets his food and they discover that the stream by his house is completely full of salmon. Envious, the local farmers drive Asolfr away and take over the stream, which subsequently fails to produce any salmon at all. In keeping with traditional tripartite folk structure, his neighbors chase him from his home and stream a second and third time (from Mioskala and then from AsoIfsskala). Finally, his kinsman, Jorundar, sets him up with a house and food at Holmi, where he lives the rest of his life. After Asolfr dies, he is buried there and "stendr par nu kirkja, sem leioi hans er, ok er hann enn helgasti maor kallaor" ("and a church now stands there where he lies (where his tomb is),and now he is called the holiest of men"; Landnamabok 64). Given the events of his story as well as the folk structure and motif, its purpose seems less to recount actual history than to present an image of a pure Christian, who is blessed with abundant food because of his good faith. Three times the greedy pagans take over the abundance of the Christian, only to have their greed thwarted by divine intervention. At last, the Christian is relegated to a kind of exile. Typical of a Christian worldview, his reward comes only after death, when his grave becomes the very soil upon which a church is built. The legend of his Christian purity becomes the foundation on which other believers might establish their faith.

But as supportive of Christianity as the Asolfr story may be, other stories give accounts that are equally fantastic, but not supportive of a Christian worldview in the least. The story of Asmundr's burial tells that when he died, "Asmundr var heygor i Asmundarleioi ok lagor i skip ok prrell hans hja honum" ("Asmundr was buried in Asmund's tomb and laid in a ship with his thrall beside him"; Landnamabok 102). After a while, Asmundr seems to become annoyed with his thrall, for a passerby hears Asmundr singing a verse that says he would rather be alone in his ship mound.

Apparently the thrall is released and nothing more is heard from Asmundr. Regardless of whether the tale accurately gives and account of a pagan burial practice (there do not seem to have been any ship burials in Iceland), the account certainly does not reflect a Christian view of the afterlife. There seem to be no negative repercussions for the pagan  activities of the characters in the narrative, and, likewise, the narrator does not offer any condemnation of the practices or of the story. He seems to have thought that his audience required no comment on the matter.

In other places, Christianity and paganism are plainly mixed by the narratives, but in different ways. First, the characters within the narrative might mix the belief, as is the case in the well known account of Helgi enn magri, Helgi the lean, who believed in Jorr while at sea but in Christ while on land. His mix belief works out perfectly fine for him, except that his son seems somewhat frustrated by it. A difference in this story from others is that the narrator actually comments on Helgi' s beliefs, saying that "Helgi var blandinn mjok i tni; hann tnioi a Krist, en het a Jor til sjofara ok harora:oa" ("Helgi was very mixed in religion; he trusted in Christ, but called on Jorr when seagoing and in hardship"; Landntimabok 250). Although the narrator comments on Helgi's beliefs, one should also note that the phrase "var blandinn mjok" does not hold any plainly negative connotation. The belief is simply an oddity, and that the narrator feels the need to comment on the issue may suggest that the narrator does not think such an overt mixture of beliefs happened often, during the liminal period of conversion or afterward, for if he felt it was known as a common occurrence, then he would have remained as silent on the issue as he had at other times. It seems more likely, however, that, since the story does not tell of any negative ramifications for Helgi's beliefs (unlike the story of Asolfr, for instance), it suggests no logical or religious conflict in holding these two beliefs, choosing which works best in one situation and which in anothers.

A different mixture of beliefs occurs in the story of Auour's death. There, belief shifts nom Auour's generation to later ones. We know that when Auour comes to Iceland from Ireland she is a dedicated Christian, as the narrative states, "hon hafOi brenahald sitt a Krossholum; !Jar let hon reisa krossa, !Jvi at hon var sldrs ok vel trUus" ("She said her prayers at Cross Hills; there she raised crosses because she was baptized and a true believer (rruuo)"; Landnamabok 139). When she dies, however, her religion dies with her. Ausur's pagan kinsmen retain a belief in the hills, though they transfonn it into something different Jar hotOu framdr hennar sisan atn'mas mikinn a h6lana. Var [!Jar] !Ja gor horg, er blot toku til; trUsu peir !Jvi, at lJeir drei f holana Her kinsmen later held a great belief in the hills. They made a heathen altar there where sacrifices took place; they believed therefore that they would go into the hills upon death. (Landnambok 137-38)

Despite the obvious transition from the initial mythic structure of Christianity to that of paganism, the sacred object (the hills) remains constant. The text suggests that, since these were Ausur's kinsmen, the hills possess their sacred potency for Ausur's kinsmen specifically because they were sacred to Ausur. The passage does not definitively indicate whether the transference of sacred potency was a conscious or unconscious one in the minds of Ausur's pagan kinsmen, but we can guess that, at least to some, it was conscious. For one thing, if Ausur had erected crosses on the hill, then presumably someone would have taken them down before erecting a pagan altar, and if nothing else, the place name "Cross Hills," indicates that the early Christian sacredness of the hills was not forgotten. The potency of the sacred does not, however, impede the object's being taken over by pagan belief. The sacred object takes on a new connotation in order to suit the needs of the pagan mythic structure. While for Au5ur's Christianity, the hills were a place to pray and worship, for her later heathen kinsmen, the hills served both as a sacred place for sacrifice and as the place where they would go after death. The latter belief  seems to have nothing to do with Auour's burial (we are told elsewhere that she was buried by the sea), but her kinsmen seem to have no trouble applying to the sacred object their own, completely different belief in the afterlife. The narrator also refrains as usual from commenting on the shift in belief, perhaps suggesting that such developments were known both to him and to his audience. The narrative presents Iceland's first recorded instance of a sacred object being transferred from one mythic structure to another.

Although the connotations of that sacred object may have changed, its potency remains alive in the mythic consciousness of the people. In other places the narrative perspective on belief that becomes inter-mixed. In chapters seven and eight of Landnamabok, for instance, we are told of Ingolfr and Hjorleifr, who settle in Iceland at the same time. Before leaving Norway, Ingolfr holds a great sacrifice in order to discover what the future holds for him (leitalJi ser heilla um forlog sin), but Hjorleifr does not. After arriving in Iceland, Hjorleifr own slaves murder him and take his goods and women. When Ingolfr hears of what has transpired, he says, "Litit lagoisk her fyrir gooan dreng, er prrelar skyldu at bana veroa, ok se ek sva hverjum veroa, ef eigi viII biota" ("it is a humble death for a good warrior that he should be killed by thralls, but I see what becomes of one who does not sacrifice"; Landnamabok 44).

The obvious religious point can be drawn from the tale is that one ought to make the proper sacrifices before going on a longjourney-clearly a pagan perspective. The recorder of the event, however, remarks earlier in the same chapter that these events take place after Haraldr Harfagri had ruled in Norway for twelve years, which was 6073 years since the beginning of the world and 874 years after the death of Christ. Contextualizing the story in these terms indicates that the compiler of the events does, after all, maintain a  Christian worldview, despite the story's suggestion that those who fail to partake in pagan sacrifices will suffer the consequences. But the compiler does not seem, at least in this case, to allow his Christian worldview to betray the pagan sensibility underlying these events. If the compiler's intent were to indoctrinate the reader with Christian practices, surely he would have altered this story or simply left it out altogether, unless his intended audience, who appear to have know the story would have objected to any alteration in the telling of it. Though written in a Christian time for a Christian audience and by a Christian writer, the story asserts that one ought to have sacrificed to pagan gods in pagan times. Apparently, this does not contradict the Christian worldview of the compiler, nor indeed of his readers.

Other references to Christianity abound in Landnamabok.
Landnamabok suggests that most of the Icelandic settlers who were Christian came from the British Isles. Further, Christianity in Iceland generally followed the same trajectory as that seen in the story of Au5ur, in which the sacrality of certain objects was retained in succeeding pagan generations. Whether there were other instances of belief developing as it does in Ausur's story is a matter of speculation, but it is enough for us to know that, at least in the time when Landnamabok was written, it was believed that those transitions occurred.8 These transitions would have represented the maintenance of sacred objects from early Icelandic Christianity to paganism.

 

The Conversions

According to Landnamabok, early Christianity in Iceland was rejected after the first generation of settlers, after which time the country was pagan for about one hundred twenty years. In order to gain the appropriate context ofIceland's conversion to Christianity, we must begin by looking back to the conversion of Norway. As was the case with Iceland, Norway rejected an early appearance of Christianity, introduced by Hakon gooi (see my discussion below). In Norway, however, early Christianity differed in two ways: First, it entered the culture by way of royalty, which was not present in Iceland.10 Even Auaur, who was clearly a powerful and well-respected figure, had no claim to a control over the social and economic infrastructure of the entire country.

It makes more sense to distinguish conversion from Christianization diachronically-as to say that conversion is the moment at which a society or individual accepts a new religion (whether entirely or not), and Christianization is the process of developing a Christian worldview and lifestyle within that individual's or society's worldview.

Second, while some of the first Icelandic settlers were Christian, they seem not to have engaged in any recorded attempts to convert others to their religion.

A look at Hakon's attempt to convert Norway to Christianity reveals much about the process of conversion. Additionally, a study of the subsequent rejection of the new religion by the Norwegian nobles reveals much about how the two religions differ in their usage and application by the people. In his study, A Piece of Horse Liver, Jon Hnefill Aoalsteinsson thoroughly discusses the events of Hakon's attempts to convert Norway.

When Hakon comes to Norway from England to claim the throne, he attempts to convert Norway to Christianity. The prandheimar refuse and demand that he engage in pagan sacrifices in order to ratify the law. Hakon acquiesces and takes a small portion of horse meat as a sign of compliance. The various sources on these events differ in their interpretation and emphasis; Htikonarmtil praises the king's conversion to paganism and proclaims that he goes safely to Valhall after death, indicating that Hakon is still pagan when he dies. Historia Norwegia  agrees that Hakon converted to paganism and that he was therefore an apostate; when a young boy kills Hakon in his fmal battle, the Latin sources remark that his death is justly deserved. InAgrip af Noregskonunga sagum, Hakon is a good and generous king, who fasts on Friday and worships on Sunday. He compels some of his subjects to give up pagan practices, but when Hakon tries to build churches and establish priests in the land, the people become angry and force him to take part in pagan worship. He appeases his people by tasting horse liver through a cloth, though he regrets his actions at the time of his death and feels that he is unworthy to be buried in a church. In FagrskinnaINoregs konunga tal, Hakon is again a generous king, whom the farmers pressure into taking part in eating horse flesh. Hakon does so, but  again regrets it later in life. Finally in Hlikonar saga gaoa, Snorri presents a more detailed and dramatic account of the tension between Hakon and the farmers, emphasizing that Hakon is a good Christian forced into making a decision that goes against his religion. Despite their differences, each account supports an essential story:

Hakon is raised in the Christian faith in England. He comes to Norway as a Christian, and the majority of the people accept him as their king. But when he tries to rule the country in accordance with his Christian upbringing, Hakon is met with strong opposition from the people. In order to keep his throne, Hakon must convert back to paganism, at least in its outward form.

Aoalsteinsson argues that the disagreement between Hakon and the people of Irandheimr, particularly in the account of Fagrskinna, indicates an integral aspect of pagan legal practice. In his words, "in the tenth century there survived a sacral kingship in which sacrifice and law formed a living whole, neither able to exist without the other. The law simply was not ratified unless the highest authority in the kingdom sacrificed in association with acceptance of the laws" (69-70). But there are problems with using these accounts as a valid report of historical detail. As Aoalsteinsson himself points out, Snorri's narrative in particular obviously aims at least in part for an aesthetic quality.11 While Ciklamini argues that he incorporates folktale elements,12 even more interesting to the study of Norse belief is that the writers of these accounts all perceive Hakon's dilemma to be such a significant and central problem. From the time of Hakonarmal (tenth century) to Heimskringla (c.1225) narrators of these events saw the beliefs of the king to be an integral aspect of the well-being of the country, and even Snorri, despite his aesthetic aims, reveals this connection.

In the end two main points can be gleaned from the accounts. First, in the mythic structure of Norse religion, there are no mere gestures. Whether Hakon actually believed in his conversion to Norse religion, the people of Norway certainly did, and in their eyes it was the actions of the king's sacrifice that granted validity to the law. The second point to be drawn from these accounts has to do with whether or not Hakon's attempt to convert Norway had a political motivation. If Hakon had intended to solidify his rule by unifying Norway under the banner of Christianity, then he made a critical error. Hakon had already won the support of the people, but his attempts to convert them to Christianity that caused divisiveness, to the point that he almost lost his kingship. Hakon seems, nonetheless, to have thought that Norway would be better off if they abandoned their old beliefs for Christianity.

Norway did not experience a successful conversion until the time of olafr Tryggvasonar, who forcefully converted the land from 995-1000. According to Dlaft saga Tryggvasonar,13 Olafr converts to Christianity after being told his future by a the same way that Landnamabok contributed to the building of a Icelandic identity and ideology, the folk elements in Heimskring/a (and other sources) contribute as well. The key for the following analysis will be to recognize that this validity remains in tact when later folktales become the subject of inquiry.

As he begins his efforts to convert Norway, Olafr finds himself in much the same situation as Hakon did, and the prandheimar complain to him, '''Gerou ver sva vio Hakon Aoalsteinsfostra, pa er hann bauo oss pvflik b0o, ok virou ver pik eigi meira en hann" ("Thus we did with Hakon foster son of Aoalstein, when he made us a similar offer, and we esteem you no more than him"; 314). In the face of these hostilities, Olafr lightens his speech and delays his sacrifice until the next offering at Mreren during midsummer. At that time, Olafr has strength enough to threaten the noblemen of Norway with death should they not convert. When Olafr finds himself in a similar position as did Hakon, the use of force decides the matter in Olafr's favor, a trend that continues throughout Olafr's reign.

In her study on the relationship between power and conversion, Alexandra Sanmark concludes that in the Anglo-Saxon world and in Scandinavia, secular rulers play an important role in the conversion of society, affording missionaries protection and other support. In the early stages of conversion, missionaries first had to find support in the local leadership of a society. As the stages of conversion progress, rulers became motivated to propagate Christianity throughout their lands, and as such they began to work as the central head of the missions, both providing for the missionaries and directing the activities of the missionaries in order to spread Christianity downward through the echelons of society (64). This is true for Norway, but Sanmark's study does not reach as far as Iceland. Her conclusion apply in part to Iceland's conversion as well, but there we must also acknowledge a significantly different social dynamic at work. 14

Iceland's first missionaries, as is told in Kristni saga, were not from Norway and were not sent by kings, but they rather came to Iceland under their own motivation. Patlr Porvalds ens vioforla and, more briefly, Kristni saga tell their story. Torvaldr has grown up in Saxland, where he meets Frickekr, and Torvaldr invites him to come to Iceland on a missionary journey. They stay for five years, from 981-986, and had only marginal success in the northern portion of the country. It seems, as Kirsten Hastrup surmises, that the activities of the two missionaries were for the most part tolerated, at least while they were in the north of the country. When they attempt to carry their message to the west, however, tension begins to build. A close examination of the two most significant events in accounts of these missions is instructive in two ways: First, by comparing the two rejections, we find that porvaldr's actions reveal him as an embodiment of an early, pre-conversion fissure between Christian doctrine and the Norse mentality. Second, we come closer to discovering how Sanmark's theory of power and conversion apply to Iceland.

Torvaldr and the bishop go to Hvamrnr,15 where they preach to the household of l‘orarinn. They appear to interrupt porarinn's wife, Friogeror, who is making sacrifice at the time, and Friogeror begins to chant to the altar against the missionaries. 16 porvaldr, in turn, retaliates with a poem of his own. It is impossible to know what Friogeror said or chanted, but whatever the case, the chanting clearly offends I'orvaldr. When Torvaldr and the bishop go to the Alpingi in 985, another verbal attack leads to their fleeing. This time, the attack comes in the form of the traditional insult ofa nilJ, which is intended to be the greatest of insults to the receiver of the ridicule. Hastrup points out that the insult was taken so seriously that in the legal code Gragas, the penalty for nio-making is banishment or outlawry (181).

As the two are preaching at the assembly, two poets launch the nio: Hefr born boret Biskop nio teira ' s allra I'orvaldr faper. (Kahle 11)

The bishop has born nine children; Torvaldr fathered them all.

As a result of the offense, porvaldr promptly kills the two nilj-makers. But a no less significant a result follows the killing when the bishop and porvaldr differ in their interpretation of the nio. porvaldr obviously views the nilj as an implication of homosexuality between himself and the bishop, but Friorekr chastises him for his rash behavior, suggesting that the poets might have been admiring the bishop for tending to the spiritual needs ofporvaldr's children, should he have any. The interpretation seems to be complete nonsense; neither narrator seems to be fooled by it, and in Kristni saga the narrator plainly calls it nio. Regardless, the reinterpretation serves to reduce the offense century" (36).

To I'orvaldr and Friorekr. In Pattr porvalds ens viojOrla, the bishop goes on to say that, even if the poem were composed as a sign of hostility, a Christian man ought not to kill those who offend him. Hastrup suggests that, regardless of the "historical truth" of the scene, it reveals a conflict between the Norse and Christian value systems (181). Friorekr intends here to instruct his pupil, Torvaldr, and the narrator intends likewise to instruct the reader. This is certainly the case, but I think it is possible to take the point further by noticing the means by which the bishop presents his instruction to Torvaldr. To reinterpret the nio as he did, the Bishop alters the obvious insult so much so that it becomes a misrepresentation of the truth. From the Christian perspective, on the one hand, the distortion provides a lesson: It is not our responsibility to judge and condemn the offensive actions of others (which would be the typical pagan approach). Rather than retaliate against an offense when he is rejected, the Christian disciple here ought to leave the place peacefully, giving only a testimony of the rejection (Mark 6:11).

From the traditional Norse perspective, on the other hand, to let an offense such as nio stand without retribution would be unthinkable. As Hastrup puts it, "by traditional standards of value nio was a grave offence to the honour of the victim; this is evident not only from the violence which attends it in the literature, but also from the laws stipulating the penalty it incurred, either banishment or outlawry" (180-81). I'orvaldr seems to have known the Christian lesson already, for earlier, when Friogeror the pagan priestess chants against I'orvaldr, he only gives testimony against her by writing, himself, a poem about the rejection. The bishop, incidentally, apparently does not disapprove of I'orvaldr 's testimony here, for he does not reprimand his pupil. The nio proves too much for Torvaldr to handle, and as a result he reverts to the Norse approach to such insults and  kills the offenders. The actions of I'orvaldr in these two scenes thus exhibits that the union of Christianity and the Icelandic mentality begins fraying at the seams at a very early stage, even before the conversion is complete.

We come now to Sanmark's question of power and conversion and how it might apply to early conversion attempts in Iceland. That the early missionary attempt by I'orvaldr and Friorekr failed in the way that it did lends support to Sanmark's interpretation. At this early stage, Iceland's Christian missionaries do not follow the same program as in other places in Scandinavia, since the leadership of the country had not given them support. The toleration enjoyed by Torvaldr and Fri6rekr in the north of Iceland was far from the endorsement and support of the country's leadership, and as that toleration began to transform into aggression, the missionaries did not have the support system enjoyed by other missionary efforts on the mainland. It took the missionaries four years to find themselves in a position to seek out that endorsement at the Alpingi of 985.

Had there been at that time any chance to acquire the leaders' support it was certainly lost when Torvaldr killed the nio-makers. But despite the comments of the bishop the lost opportunity was not so much a result of the violence exhibited by I'orvaldr -the reign of Olafr Tryggvasonar will testify to the effectiveness of violence in conversion practice but rather it was because I'orvaldr engaged in a violent act without the support of the law.

Sanmark's theory helps explain the failure of these early missions; it remains to be seen how her theory applies to the successful conversion of Iceland, which does not begin for another ten years after I'orvaldr and Friorekr leave the country in 986.

The main sources for the later missionary attempts and for Iceland's conversion to Christianity are Islendingabok, Kristni saga, and olafs saga Tryggvasonar. According to  Kristni saga the next missionary to arrive in Iceland was Stefuir, who arrives in Iceland in about the year 996. He comes under a new circumstance, in that he has been sent by Olafr Tryggvasonr. The conversion ofIceland has now fallen more in accordance with Sanmark's theory of power and conversion, but there are obvious complications. The force and distribution of missionaries used by Olafr playa role in the conversion of Iceland, as Ari acknowledges at the beginning of his account of the conversion, "Olm rex Tryggvasonr, Olafssonar, Haraldssonar ens harfagra, kom kristni f Norveg ok a Island." ("King Olafr Tryggvasonar brought Christianity to Norway and Iceland"; 14). Yet because Olafr's strength and influence were largely removed from the details of Icelandic social and religious progress, the events of Iceland's conversion to Christianity developed along unique lines. Olafr's missionary had none of the benefits mentioned by Sanmark, and he was unable to use the king's authority and direction as leverage against those who resisted conversion. Stefnir does nothing to win over the lawmakers in the land, and he instead goes to the north and the south of the country preaching about Christianity. The residents receive him poorly and even his own family rejects him. The actions that follow are, like those of porvaldr, violent ones. Stefnir begins destroying pagan temples and shrines, only to be banished for his actions.

Although the violence of I'orvaldr differs from that of Stefnir in the sense that the latter has the endorsement of an authority figure, King Olafr, Stefnir hardly enjoys the legal and military support of that endorsement. Icelanders, in fact, do away with any legal freedom from which a Christian missionary might before have benefited. Taken in the context ofporvaldr's conversion attempts-both the peaceful tolerance of Icelanders and the violence that follows, we can see a trend developing. It is not initially the belief in Christianity to which Icelanders object, but it is in particular the attack on the community's social structure. Icelandic leaders pass a law that enables them to banish Stefnir. Kirsten Hastrup comments that "the law was designed to protect the (traditional) honour of the am (the kin group) against the offense of any of its members who was converted to Christianity. Conversion was considered a defilement of the honour of the rett, it wasfrrendaskomm (literally, 'shame upon kinsmen')" (182). If Sanmark's theory is correct, then this law represents a breakdown of what ought to happen in the early stages of conversion. It seems that through their violent means of conversion, l‘orvaldr and Stefnir have unwittingly put out of hand's reach the single most important thing that missionaries to Iceland most need the support of the leaders at the Alingi. Stefnir might well have relied too much on the authority and support of King O1afr, insufficiently acknowledging the local leaders in Iceland. The next missionary to take up the cause would be sent by the king as well, but now with the lawmakers against Christianity, he would come to Iceland with the cards stacked heavily against him.

In Kristni saga, we have a dramatization of the events documented in Ari's islendingabok, a work that is viewed as more or less reliable.11 According to both Ari and Kristni saga, o1afr sends the missionary l‘angbrandr to Iceland. It is a testament to his lack of progress that he stayed for as long as he did. He remained for one or two years, converting some but clearly not many. His main contribution to the conversion of Iceland, however, is not that he converted many people but that he began to correct some of the mistakes made by I‘orvaldr and Stefnir. Ari states that "Hallr a Siou I’orsteinssonr let skirask snimhendis ok Hjalti Skeggjasonr Yr I‘jorsardali ok Gizurr enn hviti Teitsson,Ketilbjamarsonar fra Mosfelli, ok margir hofoingjar aorir" ("Hallr a Sfou I’orsteinssonr was quickly baptized, and Hjalti Skeggjasonr from I‘jorsardali and Gizurr enn hviti Teitsson and many other chieftains"; 15). By gaining a foothold, slight though it might have been, in the leadership of the country, I‘angbrandr opens the door for Christian movement and conversion in accordance with Sanmark's theory. Hastrup fitly earmarks the significance of the development by stating, This was a serious threat to the constitution of society, because the gooar were no longer able to take the traditional (heathen) oaths, and whereas formerly the contract between gooi and pingmaor had been based on shared interest, religious discrepancy now separated leaders from followers. (Culture and History 183)

We note the importance Hastrup attributes to the conversion of even a few of the gooar.But whatever the significance we modem scholars give to these conversions, neither I‘angbrandr nor king Olafr were very much impressed. When I‘angbrandr returns to Norway to report to Olafr, he says that there is no hope for the conversion of Iceland at that time, and the king flies into a rage. He threatens to kill all the Icelanders who had gone east to Norway. The king's fury cools down only when Gizurr enn hviti and Hjalti Skeggjasonr, two of the gooar converted by I‘angbrandr, arrive to promise that they will succeed in converting Iceland.

Despite how I‘angbrandr and Olafr perceived the success of I‘angbrandr's missionary journey, it seems clear that the conversion of the few gooar created a direct path to the conversion of the country. Of all the events concerning the conversion of Iceland, scholars have spent the bulk of their energy speculating on what happens next.

Gizurr and Hjalti return to Iceland that summer. and the context of their arrival indicates that the conversion of a few gooar has made a significant difference in the religious landscape. Gizurr and Hjalti arrive to find that tensions between Christians and pagans are already high. We know this first because the pagan contingent at the Alpingi opposed vehemently enough a Christian presence at the meeting that they were prepared to resist them by force. Second. we know that the Christian contingent was strong enough at the Alpingi that when Gizurr sent word to them, enough Christians supported Gizur's party to ensure safe passage. Ari also states that Hjalti must stay behind in Laugardalr after having been subjected to minor outlawry for blasphemy a year before. In a relatively short span of time after l‘angbrandr converts a mere few gooar, there are indications of a large scale, trickle-down conversion. One can imagine how it happened. For from where could these forces have come? Who would have been at the Alpingi with these few Christian gooar? We cannot be sure of the details. but likely the Jingmenn who were supporters of their gooar, as well as the gooar themselves. would have been present to support the Christian movement. Instead of converting one at a time, as was the attempt by earlier missionaries. pangbrandr's work ensured exponential Christian growth. We can see also that the culture had begun to change as well. for Hjalti had made his Christian faith known in some way or another as was accordingly banished for it at the previous Alpingi. Though we cannot know the details of his crime, he surely committed some sort offramdaskomm, a crime that would have been appropriately punished with banishment. If the assumption is correct, then we can know that Hjalti must have tried to convert or harm the pagan interests of a family relation (between three and five degrees of separation. as the law states). As Sanmark's theory might imply, that Christian belief and practices were on the rise in Iceland finds its cause in major part to the missionary activities of a few authority figures in Iceland.

The context described by Ari suggests a controversy at center stage of Iceland's political arena in the year 999/1000, but while Sanmark's theory of power and conversion certainly applies, the overarching political figure who directed the missionary activity in Iceland was quite out of touch with the events that took place that summer. The immediate and intimate threat of violence that earmarks Snorri' s account of olm's missionary ventures was not an option in Iceland. As a result the missionaries were forced to resort to a more diplomatic tactic. Nevertheless, on the local level, authority figures remained the most potent means by which the Christian conversion might take place. Those members of the Alpingi who were opposed to Christianity might even have recognized the potency of the phenomenon observed by Sanmark, for it seems that opposition to Christianity did not arise until after the missionaries began meddling with affairs of state (even I‘angbrandr's experience with Friogeror could fall into the category of these affairs). Much like the I‘nindheimar of Norway, the Iceland's pagan gooar worked to maintain their legal authority. It is worth remarking, too, that the Christian contingent worked to maintain adherence to the law. Details remain unclear, but Hjalti and company were initially prepared to honor, at least nominally (for he should not have been in Iceland at all), the banishment placed upon Hjalti. A motivation for his return to the group might well have been that he received word of the opposing force ahead, in which case the responsibility to his contingent has come to outweigh his respect for the law. Whatever the case, Ari gives no indication that those present at the Alpingi opposed Hjalti's presence any more that any other of the Christian contingent. It is, in fact, by Hjalti's side that Gizurr goes to the Logberg to propose the Christian conversion. The concern for the law continues in the manner in which the two parties determine to cope with the issue. First, it is agreed that both Christians and heathens will have a separate law. But for Gizurr and Hjalti, such an agreement would only have seemed a step along the way, for O1afr would certainly not have been appeased by the situation. The preliminary step served to establish the Christian contingent as an official, legal contingent, one with powers of negotiation.

There is no way to be certain what, exactly, transpired when Siou-Hallr transferred to porgeirr his authority as newly appointed lawspeaker for the Christian contingent. However, when porgeirr arose from under his cloak, it was on the basis of law that he convinced the pagan contingent to accept Christianity as the religion of Iceland. In the text, porgeirr reasons that to keep two separate laws and religions in Iceland would be the demise of the country. porgeirr's words on the matter, as offered by Arl, shed light on the larger aims of the current work. porgeirr states that,

En nu pykkir mer pat rcio at ver latim ok eigi pa raoa, es mest vilja i gegn gangask, ok miolum sva mal a mioli peira, at hvarirtveggju hafi nakkvat sins ms, ok hofum allir ein log ok einn sio. 18 Pat mon veroa satt, es ver slitum i sundr login, at ver monum slita ok ftioinn. (17)

And now it seems to be wise. . . that we do not allow those to go against one another who are most willing to do so, but rather let us discuss between one another that each might have his due, and that we all have one law and one religion/custom. It will become true that if we tear asunder the law, then we will tear asunder the peace.

It seems likely enough that the quotation is something of an invention by Arl, given the difficulty apparent of quoting speeches that took place over a hundred years earlier. That Ari chooses to use a quotation here, however, also bears witness to the potency of the ideas represented in the quotation. The idea that a unified law equals unified peace seems to be at the center of Ari' s account, as indicated not only by this quotation but also by the legal approach that both sides of the conflict leading up to porgeirr's speech. But in spite of porgeirr' s efforts to unify law and peace, a deeper fragmentation has occurred.

Hastrup assesses the fragmentation by saying, "while unifying from the point of view of official religion and legislation, the event was certainly divisive for the people's conception of their ideology and law" (186). Hastrup continues to say that the division increases as Christianity takes a stronger hold on society in the following century, even to the point that the people's view of the law is weakened. The importance of this moment in the Icelandic social consciousness cannot be overstressed.

Hasttup's overall approach, however, does not allow for an analysis of the intimate workings of this fissure that took place in 999/1000. Her diachronic and synchronic Structuralist methodology does a great deal to articulate the larger social structure that is in place during the conversion period, as well as how that structure develops throughout the conversion. As such she explain the historical and political significance of conversion, but it does not afford an understanding of the ancillary ramifications that take place along the trajectory of belief in the Icelandic medieval period and beyond. Hastrup's work thus serves as a foundation up which we can continue to build another type of structure, this time a belief structure, which will help illuminate the changing beliefs that accompany the changing society reflected by her  work. It will be the work of following chapters to enumerate those ramifications, as they are seen in the folk belief that follows.

For now, however, we might begin by discussion a particular failure in porgeirr's statement. porgeirr states that Icelanders ought to have "ein log ok einn sics:' While the word log might be easily enough understood, the latter, sior, offers a curious insight into the issue. In their definition of the word, Cleasby and Vigfusson19 remark that it is "a word of importance and wide use," and the word indeed carries a significant and varied connotation (526). Cleasby and Vigfusson note that the word was known throughout Scandinavia; in Danish there is sidu, in Swedish, sed. German has sitte and in O.H.G. there is situ. In eleventh century Iceland, the word most commonly connoted the idea of "religion" or "faith." This was a widely used connotation, but the meaning of the word opens up beyond this connotation to suggest a custom or manner, as in the phrase lands sior, "custom of the land," or in the phrase sio-venja, meaning "practice" or "custom," The word also bore  a relation to "moral life" and "correct conduct," as is indicated,by the word o-sioir, "ill-mannered" or ''wicked life." Sior can also refer to a ceremony or ritual, as in the phrase kirkju-sioir, "church rites." porgeirr uses the word here to mean generally "religion" or "faith," but the wider connotation of the word should not be ignored. If we consider that porgeirr here calls for "allir ein log ok einn sics," one law and one sio, then we see that he established Christianity as the religion (sior) of the land at the peril of the custom and practice (sior) of the land. The traditional pagan notion of a unified culture, law, and belief, as it was so clearly seen in the accounts of Hakon gosi, has here split apart. The fissure becomes apparent almost immediately, for despite I‘orgeir's call to have sidr and law remain one, only a few moments later we find that just the opposite has happened:

I‘a vas pat mrelt i logum, at allir menn skyldi kristnir vesa ok skim taka, peir es aor varn oskiroir a landi her; en ofbarnautburo skyldu standa en fomu log ok ofhrossakjotsat. Skyldu menn biota a laun, efvildu, en varoa fjorbaugsgaror, efvattum ofkvremi vio;Then it was spoken into law, that all men should be Christian and take the light, those who were unbaptised here in the land; but exposing children and the eating of horse meat shall stand as in the old law. Men shall make sacrifice in sacred, if they wish, but become subject toIesser-outlawry, if several witnesses came forth.

It seems that, while the pagans present at the meeting agreed to whatever I’orgeirr decides, they (and perhaps I‘orgeirr along with them) were reluctant to relinquish certain aspects of their religion. 20 The settlement has the appearance of compromise, and no doubt it was and ought to be seen as such.21 Subjecting these heathen activities to lesser outlawry, however, obviously relegates the activities to something beneath the acceptable practices of the law. This presents some significant difficulties, if we mean to follow Hastrup's lead with respect to society and the law in medieval Iceland. She argues that "in Iceland 'the social' was coterminous with 'the law.' It was part of the general Scandinavian heritage that a society was defined through the law; there was no concept of  society apart from this one in the early Middle Ages" (Hastrup 136).22 She goes on to explain that according to this social structure, anyone who is outside the law is not a part of society but of the 'wild.' At the center of the 'social' category is the Alpingi and those within the law, the social, were connected and endorsed by the center. The wild, then, is everything and everyone who functions outside the social control. Yet in the instance of I‘orgeir's concession to allow the pagan practices of child exposure and the eating of horsemeat, we have an anomaly that resists placement into Hastrup's structure: The new law permits a portion of its society to function both entirely as a part of society and entirely in conflict with the law. Anyone who engaged in pagan practices was permitted to come to the Alpingi, participate in legislature, the marketplace, and any other social interaction. It is true that they were subject to lesser outlawry if they were caught, but there had to be witnesses, and not just witnesses, there had to be a lot of witnesses. It seems that a member of society could practice heathendom as long as he or she did not disrupt the appearance of social unity, not unlike the stipulations placed on Christians before the conversion. As a result, the Structuralist assessment of the relationship between society and the law-that society is coterminous with the law-breaks down, for there now exists a portion of society (a large portion, with all probability the majority of the society) that exists beneath and out of sight of the portion of society that does not practice heathendom. pagan practice, as it were, goes underground.

Christian law, we are told, tolerates the underground paganism for several years, but Ari tells us that even this heathendom becomes abolished a few years later: "En sioarr fam vetrum vas so hei-ni afnumin sem onnur." The concession is not an uncommon one, nor is it uncommon to relinquish the concession after some amount of time.

Alexandra Samnark notes that in Scandinavia missionaries commonly converted a society to Christianity, having the members of the society first baptized, and then later becoming concerned with actual Christian instruction (116-17). The results of such conversion strategies in Icelandic society are two-fold. For one, in terms of sidr it allows for a period of time between conversion and Christianization in which new Christian "converts" are religiously (sidr) Christian because of baptism, but culturally (sidr) remain pagan because of practice. Since, as Sanmark notes, it was baptism and not understanding that saved the soul, the acquisition of a full understanding of Christian doctrine and practice was a matter of education rather than conversion. Be that as it may, there remains in Iceland a time period before the Christianization process actually got into high gear, and during this "between" period, many of the country's inhabitants were Christian, baptized, and without the slightest inkling of what that might actually mean!

The second result of these conversion strategies is that the time between conversion and Christianization (and indeed this carried over into the Christianization process and beyond) became a venue for some to consider how the new religion might relate to the old.  
 

Between Conversion and Christianization

There are two perspectives from which one might consider the time period between Conversion and Christianity in Iceland. First, from the perspective of the nation as a whole: How did the nation respond to the conversion? In what ways do the legal, social, and economical interactions develop in the country as a result? And what were the ramifications of these developments and responses? The second perspective, that of the individual accounts, can illuminate the kinds of development in belief that takes place during this time. I will say a few words about the former in a moment, but the focus of my discussion of the period between conversion and Christianization will be on a consideration of the individual perspective, and allow that perspective to inform our discussion of the national perspective. In order to gain an understanding of individual perspective, I assess the poetry of Hallfreor vandrcesk81d of the tenth century. Hallfreor offers in his poetry the contemplations of a dedicated pagan who later in life became a dedicated Christian. The verses of interest come from chapter 6 of Ha1lfreoar saga, verses 9-14, and they are also present in olaft saga Tryggvasonar (0).23 Several scholars have given these verses deep consideration, and I will say only that, concerning the dating of the poetry therein, Dag Stromback, Einar 61. Sveinsson, and Diana Whaley agree that the verses concerning Hallfreo's conversion, in particular, are most likely genuine, and placed into a saga about the poet, written in the early part of the thirteenth century.24 Stromback suggests that the verses give us a "concentrated list ofthe heathen divinities Hallfteor had learnt to know in Iceland" (Conversion 82), and that a review of these verses "can give us a picture of the poet's milieu and world ofideas, of his personality and mental development" (Conversion 83). If this is true, then we ought to be able to discern something about the development of belief in an early convert in Iceland.

Verse nine, then, begins with the poet reminiscing over past times when he made great sacrifices to Ooinn. He goes on to say in verses nine and ten that the world has changed from the time of his forefathers, and later in verse ten the poet laments,En trauor, pvit vel Vioris Vald hugnaoisk skaldi Legg ek a frumver Friggjar Fjon, I‘vit Kristi pjonum. if 8: 157. So with sorrow, for well the poet was pleased with Vidrir's rule I kindle hate for the first husband of Frigg, now I serve Christ.25

The poetry indeed reveals a struggle of the poet to reconcile his decision to worship the Christian god over the pagan. The heart of the poet, however, does not appear in conflict over whether the decision is a good one, nor does is seem that the poet is "mixed" in his belief, as was the case with Helgi in Landnamabok. Hallfreor has made a clear decision and remains wholly in support of the worship of Christ alone, but his heart looks back fondly and sorrowfully to the time when he was pleased to be the servant of Ooinn.

Engulfed with this sorrow, Hallfreor joylessly kindles hatred for Ooinn, as if there would be no hatred between them lest he worked to kindle it. Then in verse 12, the poet articulates a vital revelation of his kindled hatred, as well as the repercussions of it: Mer skyli Freyr ok Freyja, Fjoro letk af dul Njaroar, liknisk grom vio Grimni, gramr ok l‘orr enn rammi; Krist vilk allrar astar, erum leio sonar reioi,
vald a fregt und foldar feor, einn ok gookveoja. iF 8: 158

Against me Frey and Freyja (last year I left off Njord ' s deceit; let fiends ask mercy from Grimnir) will bear fury, and the mighty Thor. From Christ alone will I beg all love (hateful tome is the son's anger; famous sway) and from God.

Diana Whaley views this verse in particular as one that provides central insights into the personage of the poet. She observes that the poet deftly handles the pagan mythological material, mentioning five gods, and showing that he understands the character and relations of each; Hallfreor further treats these complexities with a high level of craftsmanship (236 and 238). The verse also carefully arranges oppositions between the many faces of paganism and the one true source oflove (237). The poet displays this sort of opposition throughout the verses, each with as much poetic skill. Beyond the skill of the poet, the perspective of individual belief in verse 12 reveals a person who was dedicated and well informed about the inner workings of his former religion (indeed, this bears testament to the poem's authenticity).

Hallfreor furthermore displays what has been referred to as a "logic of belief," for his thoughts exhibit the application of reason and repercussion to the problem of conversion: He has given due consideration to the benefits and liabilities to changing religions. He will incur the wrath of the old gods, true, but he reasons that he will also find love and security from the famously powerful Christ. His logic of belief is also still bound up by the old pagan mentality, for the consequences and benefits of conversion hatred, violence, strength of arms-remain the considerations of a pagan mind. Whaley  states that "the stance remains essentially polytheistic. . . though there is a recognition that the perfidy of the old order must give way to the power and love of the new, and there may be hints of demonization of the old gods" (245). The logic furthermore suggests, in contrast with his understanding of the old religion, neither a remarkably accurate nor a sophisticated conception of Christianity. Indeed, it reveals a rather primitive understanding of Christian doctrine at the time, as though the poet has begun to understand such things but does not yet fully. On Hallfreor's understanding of Christianity Whaley remarks, "the Christian content of these verses is altogether more transparent, and there is no Christian doctrine of the kind that might be implausible in a composition by a recent convert" (244).

Such a convert falls in line, actually, with the methods of conversion discussed by Alexandra Sanmark, if we can modify them to suit an individual. His initial motivation being loyalty to the King whom he loves, here we have an individual who has been converted and baptized but who clearly has not been educated in the ways and doctrines of Christianity. It is only fitting, then, that Hallfreor should speak of Christianity here as a man who knows little about the subject of which he speaks. In verse 13, Hallfreor further reveals the early stage of his understanding, as king Ollifr has given him a conunand which Hallfreor, given his lingering mentality of paganism, views wit insecurity. Here he laments, Sas meo Sygna r-si Sior, at blot ern kviojuo; Veroum flest at foroask Fomhaldin sk-p noma;Lata allir ytar Ooins blot fyr roa;Verok ok neyddr fnl Njaroar Niojum Krist at biOja IF 8: 159.

It's the creed of the sovereign Of Sogn, to ban sacrifices.We must renounce many a long held decree of the noms. All mankind casts Ooin' swords To the winds. Now I am forced To foresake Freyja's kin And pray to Christ.

The logic of belief that became apparent in the previous verse remains very much alive,but this time Hallfreor exhibits the logic of belief by juxtaposing a logical approach to his conversion with the authority that demands it. The juxtaposition illuminates a clash between two types of sior. On the one hand we see the cultural type of sior in the long held decrees of sacrifice, and on the other the new religious sior exemplified by prayer.

At last he submits to the weight of authority, despite his failure to understand completely its reasoning. Whaley points out that "what is exceptional about these verses. . . is their intense subjectivity, expressed grammatically through rust-person verbs and pronouns." (237). This proves especially true in verse 13. Whereas in verse 12 the poet arranges strong oppositions between old religion and new, here the poet is on unsure footing as he reflects on the commands of his sovereign. His final submission, pointedly because he does not understand the reasoning, is in itself a logic of belief, and furthermore represents perhaps the essential logic of belief in a conversion. Hallfreor converts to Christianity not because he fully understands it (he clearly does not), rather because his logic of belief facilitates enough of an understanding to admit the superior authority of Christianity (whether he understands that authority in terms of a pagan mentality or a Christian one is beside the point). Belief in superior authority. rather than reasoning, is what converts Hallfreor. As a final note on the logic of belie fin these verses, I would submit that here it has not yet fallen prey to the complacency of custom and tradition. When a logic of belief becomes overly subjected to tradition custom at the cost of genuine worship and reverence. it falls apart. Here, Hallfreor's logic is one that has not yet had the opportunitY to become susceptible to those forces. His willingness to consider the oppositions of the two religions. his acceptance of the wrath of the old gods and his acknowledged of a fondness for the old religion, his lack of didacticism over conversion, and lastly the subjectivity throughout all point to a logic that remains new, fresh, and developing.

Of the relationship between Hallfreo's conversion and the conversion of all Iceland, Whaley comments, "collectively. the five verses [written by Hallfreor] enact a process of conversion very much like the one attributed to the whole Icelandic people in Ari I‘orgilsson islendingabok Chapter seven, and elsewhere" (237). I have already discussed chapter seven of islendingabok, and as can be surmised from my own discussion of these matters. the events ofIceland's conversion, nationally. differ from the individual conversion just discussed. Still. Three general similarities do exist: First. both the nation (at the Alpingi) and the individual (as in Hallfreor's poetry) struggle with understanding the religion. Second, both trust in an authority. for the nation. that authoritY is I>orgeir. and for the individual, it is his loyal king. Third, both experience a conflict of sidr unsure how to reconcile culture and religion. On the basis of these similarities. Whaley's comments make sense; she sets out a reasonable logic. namely that the attempt at reconciliation between old beliefs and new must have been a common issue in the minds of those in post conversion Iceland. Of course, this logic only holds true for those who held some genuine aspiration for conversion. No doubt many Icelanders continued to practice paganism for some time after, and even those whose logic of belief mirrored that of Hallfreor's had the rather difficult task of practicing Christianity with little instruction and little Christian infrastructure. The law was on their side, but not much else. The Christianization process in Iceland faced remarkable obstacles, both from a practical and a spiritual perspective. Dag Strombiick reckons that in the early days of Christianity, "the new faith, clearly beset with great difficulties, was kept alive by foreign missionary bishops with an imperfect understanding of the Icelandic language" (89).

Orri Vesteinsson' s book, The Christianization of Iceland: Priests. Power, and Social Change 1000-1300, ably enumerates the problems faced by early Christianity in Iceland, the solutions of the Christianization process, and the repercussions thereof. The difficulty of conversion certainly would have been compounded by the scarcity of these missionaries, a problem that must have begun to bear down on Christianity in Iceland literally within hours of conversion. The priest l‘ormoor was supposedly the only priest available to baptize and initiate the establishment of Christianity in the country(Christianization 24). The comparable problem continues throughout the eleventh century, as few priests are on record of being in the country and even fewer churches (nine priests and only five churches, according to Vesteinsson). The main dilemma, of  course, with such a scarcity of human resources must have been the education of the people on customs, traditions, and practices of worship. How were the people to know what to do? Much like Hallfreor, the people of early conversion Iceland must have suffered from not understanding the doctrine of their new faith. Little is known about the Christianization process in the eleventh century. From about 1030 there was at least one bishop in Iceland, and a handful of priests smatter the records, some of these seem verifiable, others less so (Vesteinsson 26). The first bishop does not arrive in the country for another twenty years after the conversion, and not until 1056 did Iceland get its first native bishop, isleifr, son of the same Gizurr who played such an important role in the conversion. According to chapter two of Hungrvaka, isleifr travels abroad at the age of fifteen and becomes a missionary bishop. When he returns to Iceland he sets up the first bishopric at Skalholt, but the Icelandic people apparently either ignore or simply disrespecte isleif's authority. Tradition holds that there were several churches built in the eleventh century, though it does not seem that there were enough priests to support the needs of a congregation. Vesteinsson suggests that it is difficult to assess the nature of Christian activity at the time, but it does seem that individual chieftains were responsible for the establishment of whatever churches existed at the time (Christianization 45). As far as church activity goes, again, there was not enough personnel to establish practice, although pagan practice seems to have at least drastically lessened. It seems that pagan burials, for instance, stopped with the conversion to Christianity in 1000, but archaeological records suggest that, in the absence of a sufficient number of priests and bishops to bury the dead in proper Christian fashion, some fell back on some old pagan habits. Vesteinsson takes an interest in this matter, suggests that "consecrated cemeteries were located by the same principle as that governing the location of pagan grave-fields." (Christianization 57).

According to archaeological records. then, the burial practices in Iceland during the hundred years following conversion bear a resemblance to Hallfreor's experience. That is, we see a mixture of the new Christian practice with the old pagan understanding of how to go about it. New Christians were not able to bury their dead as they had before the conversion. yet because of the shortage of priests in the country, there was no one to instruct or carry out the rituals and practices of the new belief.26

The Christianization process picks up speed towards the end of the eleventh century and beginning of the twelfth, which saw the biggest period of Church growth in Iceland. During this time Saint Jon is said to have been a patron of education at Holar and a hero in the fight against lingering pagan practices. He is responsible for steering names for the days of the week away from a pagan nomenclature. He also fought against any superstitions associated with the calendar. According to his saga. Jons saga Helga, Jon helped establish the first major official instructions on Christian practice. These included how priests ought to go about educating their patrons, what rituals or symbols should accompany daily activities, and when people should come to offices.27 One must,  of course, wonder how attentive the people were to St. Jon's instruction. Vesteinsson suggests, and I see no reason to think otherwise, that that this instruction "is a major piece of evidence for the development ofIcelandic Christianity and its state around 1100" (61).

Also during this "Golden Age," Bishop Gizurr seems to have a much better time of things than his predecessor and father, Isleifr. During his time as bishop (1082-1118), Gizurr earns the respect of the people, as well as establishing the second see at Holar. But perhaps the most important and lasting event that took place during Gizurr's time as bishop was the Tithe Law. Its establishment was an event that solidified the financial well-being of the Church in Iceland, both for the institution and for the individual patrons who owned and operated churches. It also served to organize the country in terms of the divisions and areas of ministries (Vesteinsson 91-2).

Gizurr's popularity throughout the country and the establishment of the Tithe Law must not be mistaken for the end of the Christianization process in Iceland; it is rather merely an identifiable and firm beginning to it. It will be the work of this book, at least in part, to demonstrate that the Christianization process was one that continued for many centuries beyond the "Golden Age" of Gizurr and the Tithe Law, a process that, despite its strong beginning, seems never to have met with any closure.
 

1 It is difficult to determine for certain even when settlement occurred. Margret Hermanns-Auoardottir's excavations have sugested that Iceland may have been inhabited as early as the seventh century (see "Islands tidiga Bosattning" and "The Beginning of Settlement in Iceland from an Archaeological Point of View"), though her claims remain controversial, particularly in terms of the method of dating the sites (see Hermannsd6ttir; Hallsd6ttir; Nordahl; Hermanns-Au6ard6ttir; Einarsson; Mahler and Malmros; Rafnsson; Sveinbjarnard6ttir; VilhjaImsson1991a and 1991 b). The general consensus holds that an explanation other than the early settlement theory can account for suspicious archaeological evidence (Smith 325-26). See also Thomas H. McGovern's "The Archaeology of the Norse Atlantic," where he gives a useful overview and bibliography of the archaeological studies in the North Atlantic up to 1990.

2 For example what Lars Lonnroth, following scholars of the Annales school, dubs mentalite, when he says "While ideology, being a conscious set of political or religious beliefs, is often expressed in manifestos and can be changed with relative ease, mentalite is the unconscious way of relating to such everyday matters as time, kinship, honour or luck, expressed in ordinary language or through various forms of symbolic representations; it is also more resistant to change" (Sawyer, Sawyer, and Wood 27). My only grievance may be that I do not see a need for mentalite always to fall under the category of "unconscious." While this holds true at times, other instances, such as Halfrer discussed below, suggest that the shift in mentalite occurs consciously and actively, as the individuals or societies struggle to understand the relationship between the old religion and the new. I agree entirely, however, with Lonnroth's statement that "in the long run, the study of mentalite will turn out to be by far the most fruitful for the understanding of the conversion process" (Sawyer, Sawyer, and Wood 29). It is my hope that the present study will contribute to that understanding.

3 See Jon Hnefil1 Aoalsteinsson. Under the Cloak: A Pagan Ritual Turning Point in the Conversion of Iceland. 2nd ed. Reykjavik: Haskolautgafan, 1999.

4 For a discussion of the origins of Landnamabok see Johannesson 1941; Benediktsson in IF 1, 1968; Gusmundsson 1959; Rafnsson 1974; and Adalsteinsson 1999.

5 Jenny Jochens notes the need for caution as well, but she still leans towards accepting the account. To this end she argues, "With one exception all medieval sources that treat conversion repeat these words, Ari's reputation for reliability and the fact that five Icelandic place-names incorporate the word papi (priest or monk) have encouraged its general acceptance" (Jochens 633). She states also that Ari's claim is "further corroborated by the contemporary Latin writer Dicuilus, an Irish monk at the Carolingian court, who wrote a book entitled Liber de mensura orbis terrae in 825" (633). In his work Um Hallnnan: Vestramir menn og Jzlensk Menning a MiOoldum, however, Helgi GuOmundsson suggests that Ari' s account here may be based on that of the Dicuilus and is therefore unreliable, but see also Gisli SigurOsson's scathing criticism of GuOmundsson's methodology and general theory. SigurOsson complains that GuOmundsson has no scholarly basis for his suggestion (Ill). One might wonder also how these monks, presumably peregrini, might have gotten back to the British Isles to report on what they had seen in Iceland.

6 Between 1967 and 1981 Kristjan Eldjarn carried out excavations ofPapey, where the monks were said to have been, but he found no indication of their presence (see Eldjarn, K. "Papey. Fornleifarannsoknir 1967-1981." Arbok hins Jslenzka Fornleifafllags. (1988): 35-188.).

7 Note the different narrators in Landmimabok, which could dictate how various narratives responded to pagan thinking. Jon Hnefill Aoalsteinsson addresses this issue in chapter one of Blot og Ping. He concludes, first, that the accounts in Landntimabok can be trusted as viable folk traditions, and, two, that attitudes towards pagan worship and religion were largely either positive or neutral. They likely derive from a time at which little bias against the old religions.

8  It is most important here to notice the value of the settlement period, and with it islendingabok and Landnamabok to the Icelandic belief structure (mentalite, to use Lonnroth's word), rather than the factuality of the texts. As Kevin P. Smith puts it, "the settlement of Iceland has provided Icelanders with an important ideological charter for eight centuries. islendingabok formalized the identity of the Icelanders as a distinct people with a unique, known history . . . By the thirteenth century, when the earliest extant version of Landnamabok was written, the tales of Iceland's settlement retained this function" (339). This ideology shifts and develops with Christianization but does not disappear: Lingering motifs and characters from settlement era reappear in the later folktales.

9 Usage of this term and "Christianization" can become confusion. Ian Wood affinns that "the word 'conversion' should be used exclusively in th[e] personal context, and that one should speak of'Christianization' when discussion the more general religious changes which took place in medieval Europe" (Sawyer, Sawyer, and Wood 21). It makes more sense to distinguish conversion from Christianization diachronically-as to say that conversion is the moment at which a society or individual accepts a new religion (whether entirely or not), and Christianization is the process of developing a Christian worldview and lifestyle within that individual's or society's worldview.

10 Some see this as one in the same method of conversion: "Medieval missions were directed not to individuals but to gentes, that is pagan political/ethnic units. These were approached through their leaders, often kings, and even in Iceland, without kings, it was the chieftains, go oar, through whom the missionaries are said to have worked" (Sawyer, Sawyer, and Wood 8).
11 Aoalsteinsson remarks that Snorri' s effort along these lines causes him to miss out on a vital aspect of Norse religion (Horse Liver 76).

12 In her article "The Folktale in Heimskringla" Marlene Ciklamini discusses the role and significance of folktale elements in Heimskringla. She concludes that ". . . Snorri's varied use of folktales and folktale elements suggests that their function went beyond that of rounding out the sparse historical traditions transmitted from the preliterate stage. Folktales add depth to historical accounts. They direct awareness to mythic and emotional forces which profoundly affect the constellation and complexion of historic events" (213).

13 From a literary perspective, Snorri did not forget his treatment of Hakon gooi. Many of the motifs and narrative structure used to describe Hakon goo; are echoed in Dlaft saga Tryggvasonar.

14 The difference depends largely on the nature of leadership in the country. As Byock states, «In such an acephalous society, one would expect that the protection of the individual lay in the corporate structure of the family, but not in Iceland, where the individual usually had to depend on created political bonds, including vinfengi and handsal agreements. . . Chieftains did not control specific territories; instead, they were leaders of interest groups . . . The accessibility of a chieftain tended to stabilize the society by rewarding success within the framework of the nationally leaderless system of decision making. In most respects Iceland was an anomaly in medieval Europe" ("Saga Forms" 155). A social structure as articulated by Byock requires that Sanmarks theory be somewhat emended, though see above.

15 The folktale "Gullbra og Skeggi i Hvammur," references the story of porvaldr and FriogerOr.

16 Later Christian authorities viewed such chants as quite harmful; Bishop Jon Ogmundarson (d. 1121), outlawed them and other such oral incantation (galdrar) in the twelfth century. Judy Quinn notes, "the zeal with which Bishop Jon is said to have campaigned against such practices suggests that they were flourishing in the early twelfth century" (36). Given the apparent tension over the issue, it will be interesting to mark the development of this particular belief in the later folktales. See especially my comments on the anti-numen in chapters three and four.

17 See Hastrup Culture and History 183, and Turville-Petre Myth and Religion 180-81 for a discussion of Ari's reliability. The general sense, as Hastrup states it, is that "with this 'ancestry' of his authority, Ari seems to have been favourably placed for writing the history of the introduction of Christianity into Iceland" (Culture and History 183). One ought to note as well, that his "ancestry" might also be the very quality that undermines his authority on such matters.

18 A diachronic examination of the word would likewise be fruitful in order to determine whether these other definitions develop after Christianity has gotten a good foothold on the country. This would support the claim that custom and belief are becoming split apart with the introduction of Christianity, since it occurs even in the language.

19 Unless otherwise noted, all of the following etymological notes concerning come from Vigfusson and Cleasby's lcelandic- English Dictionary.

20 Concessions such as these seem entirely probable. More peculiar, as Preben Meulengracht Smensen says, may be the fact that the concessions actually show up in Arius history: "In consideration that this book was approved by the bishops, this information bears witness to a considerable tolerance. . . It was accepted and even found profitable for such recollections of heathendom to be set down as a part oflceland's history" (20). Again, such details serve to create an ideology and identity for the Icelander.

21 See Jon Steffensen, "Aspects of Life in Iceland in the Heathen Period," for a discussion of these concessions.

22 See also Hastrup. "Defining a Society. The Nature of the Medieval Icelandic Freestate."

23 Diana Whaley, in her article "The 'Conversion Verses' in Hallfreoar saga: Authentic V oice of a Reluctant Christian," discusses in more detail the sources for the stanzas (234 and fin. 2).

24 Bjarni Einarsson's (1981) efforts to overturn this conclusion are unsatisfying. He establishes his query by questioning, "is it reasonable to assume that a fictitious story contains authentic verse?" (217). A question to which the answer seems rather reasonably to be "yes," especially after Gisli Sigurosson's advancements in theory of oral transmission of saga material. Further, the refutations of Einarsson on the grounds of lexical borrowings from Anglo-Saxon (specifically, Hallfreo's usage of harri, lord, might reasonably be a borrowing of the AS h( e )arra, lord, in reference to God; 218) are handled in Diana Whaley's article on the issue (240).

25 Here we use Diana Whaley's translation of the poetry, found in The Saga ofHallfred the Troublesome Poet, from The Complete Sagas of the Icelanders, 225-53.

26 There may well be more to the matter than is stated here. Sarah Semple has applied archaeological findings to written sources in order to argue that in the Christianized Anglo-Saxon society, "the depiction of heathenism as evil presumably led to sites which were commonly associated with pagan practice becoming associated with evil in later popular belief. a situation no doubt encouraged and exploited, if not initiated, by the Christian church. The use of the barrow for the interment of criminals in the later AngloSaxon period appears in the light of the discussion to be a detailed topographical selection of sites to heighten the punishment of wrongdoers and extend it after death" (123).

27 See Vesteinsson 58-61 for a more detailed account of St. Jon's activities.
 

Works Cited

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