| Saxo Grammaticus, or "The
Lettered", of whom little is known except his name, is the earliest chronicler of
Denmark and one of the important historians of the Middle Ages. His historical memoirs
originally written in Latin in the early years of the 13th Century A.D. The following
excerts reflect the most direct and interesting instances of fighting and weapon use
recorded by Saxo. They are similar to Norse Sagas, but are more historical and much
less mythical. The text portions below
are based on "The Nine Books of the Danish History of Saxo Grammaticus",
translated by Oliver Elton (Norroena Society, New York, 1905). Saxo the Dane wrote 16
books of "Danish History", only the first nine have been translated into
English. This electronic edition was edited, proofed, and prepared by Doug Killings (and
assisted by Mr. James W. Marchand and Mr. Jessie D. Hurlbut ). Abridged for ARMA by
J. Clements.
 Meanwhile Asmund, the son of Swipdag, fought with Hadding to avenge
his father. And when he heard that Henry his son, his love for whom he set even before his
own life, had fallen fighting valiantly, his soul longed for death, and loathed the light
of day, and made a song in a strain like this: "What brave hath dared put on my
armour? The sheen of the helmet serves not him who tottereth, nor doth the breastplate
fitly shelter him that is sore spent. Our son is slain, let us riot in battle; my eager
love for him driveth me to my death, that I may not be left outliving my dear child. In
each hand I am fain to grasp the sword; now without shield let us ply our warfare bare-
breasted, with flashing blades. Let the rumour of our rage beacon forth: boldly let us
grind to powder the column of the foe; nor let the battle be long and chafe us; nor let
our onset be shattered in rout and be still." When he had said this, he gripped his
hilt with both hands, and, fearless of peril, swung his shield upon his back and slew
many. Hadding therefore called on the powers with which he was allied to protect him, and
on a sudden Wagnhofde rode up to fight on his side. And when Asmund saw his crooked sword,
he cried out, and broke into the following strain: "Why fightest thou with curved
sword? The short sword shall prove thy doom, the javelin shall be flung and bring forth
death.
At the outset of the duel there was a long dispute, which of them
ought to have the chance of striking first. For of old, in the ordering of combats, men
did not try to exchange their blows thick and fast; but there was a pause, and at the same
time a definite succession in striking: the contest being carried on with few strokes, but
those terrible, so that honour was paid more to the mightiness than to the number of the
blows. Agnar, being of higher rank, was put first; and the blow which he dealt is said to
have been so furious, that he cut through the front of the helmet, wounded the skin on the
scalp, and had to let go his sword, which became locked in the vizor-holes. Then Bjarke,
who was to deal the return-stroke, leaned his foot against a stock, in order to give the
freer poise to his steel, and passed his fine-edged blade through the midst of Agnar's
body. Some declare that Agnar, in supreme suppression of his pain, gave up the ghost with
his lips relaxed into a smile. The champions passionately sought to avenge him, but were
visited by Bjarke with like destruction; for he used a sword of wonderful sharpness and
unusual length which he called Lovi.
The carnage that is being done without calls
thee. By now the council-chamber is shaken with warfare, and the gates creak with the
dreadful fray. Steel rends the mail-coats, the woven mesh is torn apart, and the midriff
gives under the rain of spears. By now the huge axes have hacked small the shield of the
king; by now the long swords clash, and the battle-axe clatters its blows upon the
shoulders of men, and cleaves their breasts. Why are your hearts afraid? Why is your sword
faint and blunted?
The reason why I tarried was the sword in my
path, which the Swedish foe whirled against my breast with mighty effort. Nor did the
guider of the hilt drive home the sword with little might; for though the body was armed
he smote it as far as one may when it is bare or defenceless; he pierced the armour of
hard steel like yielding waters; nor could the rough, heavy breastplate give me any help.
"Lo, methinks I surely pierced a wild stag with the Teutonic
sword which is called Snyrtir: from which I won the name of Warrior, when I felled Agnar,
son of Ingild, and brought the trophy home. He shattered and broke with the bite the sword
Hoding which smote upon my head, and would have dealt worse wounds if the edge of his
blade had held out better. In return I clove asunder his left arm and part of his left
side and his right foot, and the piercing steel ran down his limbs and smote deep into his
ribs. By Hercules! No man ever seemed to me stronger than he. For he sank down
half-conscious, and, leaning on his elbow, welcomed death with a smile, and spurned
destruction with a laugh, and passed rejoicing in the world of Elysium. Mighty was the
man's courage, which knew how with one laugh to cover his death-hour, and with a joyous
face to suppress utter anguish of mind and body!
"Now also with the same blade I searched
the heart of one sprung from an illustrious line, and plunged the steel deep in his
breast. He was a king's son, of illustrious ancestry, of a noble nature, and shone with
the brightness of youth. The mailed metal could not avail him, nor his sword, nor the
smooth target-boss; so keen was the force of my steel, it knew not how to be stayed by
obstacles.
"I do not remember any combat wherein
swords were crossed in turn and blow dealt out for blow more speedily. I take three for
each I give; thus do the Goths requite the wounds I deal them, and thus doth the stronger
hand of the enemy avenge with heaped interest the punishment that they receive. Yet singly
in battle I have given over the bodies of so many men to the pyre of destruction, that a
mound like a hill could grow up and be raised out of their lopped limbs, and the piles of
carcases would look like a burial-barrow. And now what doeth he, who but now bade me come
forth, vaunting himself with mighty praise, and chafing others with his arrogant words,
and scattering harsh taunts, as though in his one body he enclosed twelve lives?"
Horwendil, in his too great ardour, became keener to attack his
enemy than to defend his own body; and, heedless of his shield, had grasped his sword with
both hands; and his boldness did not fail. For by his rain of blows he destroyed Koller's
shield and deprived him of it, and at last hewed off his foot and drove him lifeless to
the ground.
But Ket received him with so sturdy a stroke of his sword, that it
split the helmet and forced its way down upon the head. Stung by the wound (for a stream
of blood flowed from his poll), he attacked Ket with a shower of nimble blows, and drove
him to his knees.
Wermund said that his son had judged all things rightly, and bade
him first learn the use of arms, since he had been little accustomed to them. When they
were offered to Uffe, he split the narrow links of the mail-coats by the mighty girth of
his chest, nor could any be found large enough to hold him properly. For he was too hugely
built to be able to use the arms of any other man. At last, when he was bursting even his
father's coat of mail by the violent compression of his body, Wermund ordered it to be cut
away on the left side and patched with a buckle; thinking it mattered little if the side
guarded by the shield were exposed to the sword. He also told him to be most careful in
fixing on a sword which he could use safely. Several were offered him; but Uffe, grasping
the hilt, shattered them one after the other into flinders by shaking them, and not a
single blade was of so hard a temper but at the first blow he broke it into many pieces.
Both the warriors assaulted Uffe; but,
distrusting his sword, he parried the blows of both with his shield, being determined to
wait patiently and see which of the two he must beware of most heedfully, so that he might
reach that one at all events with a single stroke of his blade.
Then, in order to try the bravery of the champion, he bade him not
skulk timorously at his master's heels, but requite by noble deeds of combat the trust
placed in him by his prince, who had chosen him to be his single partner in the battle.
The other complied, and when shame drove him to fight at close quarters, Uffe clove him
through with the first stroke of his blade. The sound revived Wermund, who said that he
heard the sword of his son, and asked "on what particular part he had dealt the
blow?" Then the retainers answered that it had gone through no one limb, but the
man's whole frame; whereat Wermund drew back from the precipice and came on the bridge,
longing now as passionately to live as he had just wished to die. Then Uffe, wishing to
destroy his remaining foe after the fashion of the first, incited the prince with vehement
words to offer some sacrifice by way of requital to the shade of the servant slain in his
cause. Drawing him by those appeals, and warily noting the right spot to plant his blow,
he turned the other edge of his sword to the front, fearing that the thin side of his
blade was too frail for his strength, and smote with a piercing stroke through the
prince's body. When Wermund heard it, he said that the sound of his sword
"Skrep" had reached his ear for the second time. Then, when the judges announced
that his son had killed both enemies, he burst into tears from excess of joy.
For his shield, which hung aloft from the rafter, instantly fell
and covered his unarmed body, and, as if on purpose, covered it from impalement by the
cutthroats. He did not fail to make use of his luck, but, snatching his sword, lopped off
both feet of the nearest of them.
Geigad, moreover, dealt Hakon, who pressed him hard, such a wound
in the breast that he exposed the upper part of his liver. It was here that Starkad, while
he was attacking Geigad with his sword, received a very sore wound on the head; wherefore
he afterwards related in a certain song that a ghastlier wound had never befallen him at
any time; for, though the divisions of his gashed head were bound up by the surrounding
outer skin, yet the livid unseen wound concealed a foul gangrene below.
Thereupon the Danes, decked in warlike array, led Starkad, who was
to represent his king, out to the duelling-ground. Hame, in his youthful assurance,
despised him as withered with age, and chose to grapple rather than fight with an outworn
old man. Attacking Starkad, he would have flung him tottering to the earth, but that
fortune, who would not suffer the old man to be conquered, prevented him from being hurt.
For he is said to have been so crushed by the fist of Hame, as he dashed on him, that he
touched the earth with his chin, supporting himself on his knees. But he made up nobly for
his tottering; for, as soon as he could raise his knee and free his hand to draw his
sword, he clove Hame through the middle of the body. Many lands and sixty bondmen apiece
were the reward of the victory.
Then I uncovered and drew my sword, and as the smith fled I clove
his privy parts; his hams were laid open, cut away from the bone; they showed his
entrails.
Halfdan, though he had reached old age a bachelor, was stirred by
the promise of the chief as much as by the insolence of the champion, and went to Norway.
When he entered it, he blotted out every mark by which he could be recognized, disguising
his face with splashes of dirt; and when he came to the spot of the battle, drew his sword
first. And when he knew that it had been blunted by the glance of the enemy, he cast it on
the ground, drew another from the sheath, with which he attacked Grim, cutting through the
meshes on the edge of his cuirass, as well as the lower part of his shield. Grim wondered
at the deed, and said, "I cannot remember an old man who fought more keenly;"
and, instantly drawing his sword, he pierced through and shattered the target that was
opposed to his blade. But as his right arm tarried on the stroke, Halfdan, without
wavering, met and smote it swiftly with his sword. The other, notwithstanding, clasped his
sword with his left hand, and cut through the thigh of the striker, revenging the mangling
of his own body with a slight wound. Halfdan, now conqueror, allowed the conquered man to
ransom the remnant of his life with a sum of money; he would not be thought shamefully to
rob a maimed man, who could not fight, of the pitiful remainder of his days. By this deed
he showed himself almost as great in saving as in conquering his enemy.
Meantime Ingild died in Sweden, leaving only a very little son,
Ring, whom he had by the sister of Harald. Harald gave the boy guardians, and put him over
his father's kingdom. Thus, when he had overcome princes and provinces, he passed fifty
years in peace. To save the minds of his soldiers from being melted into sloth by this
inaction, he decreed that they should assiduously learn from the champions the way of
parrying and dealing blows. Some of these were skilled in a remarkable manner of fighting,
and used to smite the eyebrow on the enemy's forehead with an infallible stroke; but if
any man, on receiving the blow, blinked for fear, twitching his eyebrow, he was at once
expelled the court and dismissed the service.
Hildigisl slunk off with a spear through both buttocks, which was
the occasion for a jeer at the Teutons, since the ugliness of the blow did not fail to
brand it with disgrace.
Then I put Waske to death, and punished the insolent smith by
slashing his hinder parts;
So Hather smote sharply with the sword and hacked off the head of
the old man. When the severed head struck the ground, it is said to have bitten the earth;
thus the fury of the dying lips declared the fierceness of the soul.
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