Valkyrie

The noun ‘Viking’ wasn’t a narrow label equated solely with pillaging, rather, it originally seems to have been a loose, neutral term referring to the actions of people who travelled abroad (it was not a verb like in modern English usage), and it encompassed a range of interrelated activities that included not only raiding but also trade, travel and settlement in colonies.²⁰ For that reason, it is justified to use it about people of both genders who engaged in some, if not all, of these activities, even if they were not warriors. It was not just men who went off to see the world: women travelled widely – often, though by no means always, by men’s sides.

The story of the Viking Age often seems to be a story of men – male warriors, male kings, male seafarers and explorers, male settlers, male farmers, male gods and male jötnar – but when we look beneath the exterior, we see women everywhere. They’re marching with the Great Army, they’re among the settlers in Iceland and Greenland and the explorers in Newfoundland, they’re on the runestones in Sweden and Denmark and the political scene in Norway, and they are vital, active characters in the myths and legends. In fact, the Viking Age wouldn’t have been possible at all without the contributions of women – their labour and expertise yielded the sails that set the ships in motion and clothed the Vikings for their expeditions. They ran farms and raised children, keeping entire households prosperous, often without their husbands. And these children went out into the world and achieved great things in return. It is therefore no coincidence that Norse literature has some fascinating maternal images.

In old age, they [Unnr and Elli] refuse to yield their dignity, despite a failing body and decades of emotional trauma, and they boss their children or grandchildren around with love but determination, and we rarely see a crack in the proud, determined personas they project, whether as young women or elderly matriarchs.