Aoife O’Sullivan
Highly Commended in the Global Undergraduate Awards
David Clark states that vengeance “is of central importance to the heroic poems of the Poetic Edda, underpinning the action of each one” (Clark 173). This vengeance takes many forms, from petty squabbling between families to feuds that shape entire countries. One of the most interesting aspects of the vengeance in these poems, however, is that it is not limited to male figures. Old Norse poetry also provides frequent examples of women exacting revenge, primarily for injustices done to their loved ones. Perhaps the most notable of these female figures is Guðrun, daughter of Giuki, whose life story is presented to us in detail over the course of several poems: Guðrúnarkviða I, Guðrúnarkviða II, Atlakviða, Atlamál and others. Over the course of these poems—composed by a number of different poets, in different periods and countries—we are shown the lack of autonomy Guðrun was permitted, the choices that were forced upon her, the injustices that finally spurred her to seek revenge, and the way in which she utilised her limited autonomy to do so. What is most striking about the accounts of Guðrun’s story, however, is the way in which her brutal revenge is commended by the poets. Through their complex, powerful portrayal of Guðrun, we gain an insight into how Old Norse poets—and society as a whole—viewed the concept of women and revenge. Despite the evident male anxieties concerning a woman’s power, we see that a woman’s revenge could be celebrated and praised—as long as it was in response to a very particular kind of injustice.
As stated above, vengeance in Old Norse poetry is not solely the domain of men and the gods. Although it is perhaps less frequent, we do find plenty of examples of women seeking revenge, most often for wrongs done to their families. This seeking of revenge can occur directly or indirectly: sometimes the woman carries out the revenge plot herself, while on other occasions she spurs another family member into doing it on her behalf. Even in the second case, however, the desire for revenge is a woman’s, and this type of narrative is generally categorised in Norse poetry as hvǫt. Ali Frauman defines hvǫt as “a scene in which someone, usually a female family member, attempts to stir a passive recipient into taking revenge for a wrong that has been committed against the household or extended kin group” (Frauman 270). Frauman goes on to explain that this “wrong” is usually the killing of a family member, but can also be “an affront to personal or family honor” (Frauman 270). It is significant that Frauman places emphasis on the household and family honour. Women in Old Norse poetry may seek revenge on behalf of their primarily male relations when the family honour is at stake, but there is little or no mention of the petty cruelties and abuses that they themselves suffer. This gives us an idea of the approach to women’s revenge in Old Norse society: it was acceptable, but only under certain circumstances.
Guðrun’s story is structured in such a way that we witness her suffer personal injustices almost from the very beginning. In Guðrúnarkviða I, Guðrun’s first husband Sigurd has just been killed by her brothers Gunnar, Hogni and Guthorm, at the request of Sigurd’s former lover Brynhild. Guðrun’s grief for Sigurd is made clear from the beginning of the poem, when we are told that she “intended to die, / when she sat sorrowful over Sigurd” (1a-b), and that even though she “could not weep, / she was so impassioned, she might have burst asunder” (2c-d). And yet, despite the force of her grief, Guðrun does not seek revenge for the death of her husband. Her own brothers are the cause of her suffering, and she declares that their “people and land will be laid waste” as a result (21a), but she does not actively attempt to harm them in return for the pain they have caused her. This provides us with yet another hint about Old Norse values and views on revenge. The death of Guðrun’s husband is presented as a more personal grief, rather than an affront to his family’s honour. Additionally, for her to take revenge on his killers she would have to turn against her own family. As such, although Guðrun is allowed to express anger or resentment towards her brothers over her husband’s death, we are given the impression that an attempt at revenge would not be commended by either the poets or their audience.
Sigurd’s death is only the beginning of Guðrun’s suffering. Although she does not wish to weep for him in Guðrúnarkviða I, the women around her are not content to let her grieve in her own way. They tell stories of their own grievances and force her to touch her husband’s corpse, not relenting until she is brought to tears. This harassment is one of the ways in which Guðrun’s autonomy is stripped away from her in these poems. She is not allowed to express emotion in her own way, but must conform to the standards of the women around her in order to set their minds at ease. The personal injustices visited on her only worsen as her story continues: in Guðrúnarkviða II she recounts how in the wake of Sigurd’s death her family forced her to marry Atli against her will. Her mother makes her drink a potion containing “[m]any bad things” (23a) so that she “should not remember the strife” (21b) – or more specifically, her brothers’ part in it and any animosity she might harbour towards them (Cronan 178). And although Guðrun is still insistent that she cannot “hurtle onwards into happiness” (29a) by marrying another man, her mother continues to press until Guðrun yields, stating that she has been “coerced into this by [her] kin” (34b) and that her new husband “won’t be a husband whom [she] can love” (34c). Dennis Cronan makes it clear that Guðrun capitulates not as a result of her mother’s bribes or promises, but merely because “her objections are exhausted” (181). Finally, the description of Guðrun’s arrival at Atli’s hall at the end of the poem is grim, making it seem as though Guðrun has entered “not only a prison, [but] a place of death” (Cronan 182). Guðrun’s life has become a series of horrors inflicted on her by her family, and the poets make no attempt to hide the pain and trauma she is experiencing. And yet still we are not given any sense that she is about to take active revenge against her family, or even that the poets think she should.
In the end, what finally spurs Guðrun to seek revenge is not any injury to herself, but rather an injury to her family. In both Atlamál and Atlakviða we are told the same story: Guðrun’s second husband Atli invites her brothers Gunnar and Hogni to his home, and Guðrun sends them a message to warn them that it is a trap. When the brothers come despite Guðrun’s warning Atli has them both killed, and Guðrun takes revenge by murdering her sons and feeding them to Atli and his men. The two poems are separated by distance as well as by time: Atlakviða is thought to be one of the oldest poems in the Poetic Edda (Larrington 204) and was both composed and set in Iceland, while the more recent Atlamál was likely composed in Greenland. But although there are a number of differences between the poems—such as the setting and Atli’s motivations—in both accounts Guðrun’s revenge on Atli is portrayed as entirely justified. The Atlakviða poet details the way in which Guðrun serves her sons’ remains to Atli and his men, the uproar which follows her revelation, and the chaos Guðrun then rains down – stabbing Atli, setting the dogs loose and burning down the hall – before finishing the poem with the lines:
. . . never since has a bride
in a byrnie acted so to avenge her brothers;
she brought news of death to three great kings,
that bright woman, before she died (43a-d).
Meanwhile, the Atlamál poet provides even more detail about Guðrun’s murder of her children, but hails her as a “formidable woman” (79a) who “did what she had to do” (79b). And like the Atlakviða poet, he ends his poem on a note of praise, stating that:
The splendidly born lady did all as promised;
. . .
Fortunate is any man who afterwards can father
such heroic children as Giuki fathered.
After them in every land
their defiance lives on wherever people hear of it (104b, 105a-d).
Despite the years and distance separating them, the poets are of one opinion concerning Guðrun’s revenge. She is a “bright” and “heroic” woman who did not defy nature, but simply did what she had to do in order to avenge her brothers.
This portrayal of Guðrun gives us an important insight into the Old Norse approach to woman and revenge. Guðrun had suffered numerous injustices before the death of her brothers, from the murder of her first husband to the drugging and forced second marriage her family inflicted on her. But not only were these injustices of a more personal nature, they were also all committed by her own family members. As such Guðrun is allowed to grieve over these wrongs, even to curse her family for them, but the idea of actively taking revenge is never suggested. When her brothers are deceived and murdered by Atli, however, it is not merely a source of personal grief to Guðrun, it is also an affront to her family’s honour. Crucially, it is this injustice that first drives her to seek revenge, suggesting that family and familial honour supersedes almost everything else in the poets’ minds. And although her actions and loyalty to her brothers over her husband may feed into certain male anxieties about a woman’s power, the poets do not condemn her. Instead, her decision to kill her young children and weaponise her domestic duties is seen as a terrible necessity, suggesting that the murder of Gunnar and Hogni was monstrous enough to warrant this extreme of a response.
However, although Guðrun is praised for her actions in both Atlamál and Atlakviða, there are still obvious limitations placed on the celebration of women’s revenge. As stated above, Guðrun is never encouraged to avenge the personal wrongs she suffers; her revenge is only justifiable when it is on behalf of her male family members. This becomes even clearer in the poem Guðrúnarhvǫt, or The Whetting of Guðrun. In this poem, set years after the events of Atlamál and Atlakviða, Guðrun’s daughter Svanhild has been trampled to death by horses at her husband’s command. As the hvǫt in the title indicates, this poem sees Guðrun push her sons Hamdir and Sorli into avenging their sister’s death. But although Svanhild is also a member of Guðrun’s family, she occupies a different position to Gunnar and Hogni. She is not a male leader or a warrior – she is a woman. And as Guðrun’s own early life makes evident, the wrongs done to women are not necessarily seen as being worthy of vengeance. This is further emphasised by Hamdir and Sorli’s reluctance to avenge their sister’s death. Svanhild’s death is not a slight to familial honour, but merely a source of personal grief. Guðrun admits that Svanhild was “the one of [her] children whom [she] loved the best in [her] heart” (15b) and that it was the “cruellest of all [her] injuries, / when the white-blonde hair of Svanhild / they trampled in mud under horses’ hooves” (16c-e). The poem places greater emphasis on a mother’s grief for her child than on the affront to familial honour, and as such Guðrun’s revenge is not praised or celebrated in the same way. Instead, her son Hamdir warns her that he and his brother will not survive their mission, and when they are killed in the Lay of Hamdir Guðrun is left alone to mourn three more of her children. The message here is clear: personal grief is not enough to justify a woman’s vengeance, and slights to familial honour are generally only acknowledged when men are involved.
What is also striking about the portrayal of women and revenge in these poems is the life Guðrun leads after avenging her brothers’ deaths. Although she is praised for her actions in both Atlakviða and Atlamál, she does not get to live the life of a hero afterwards. Unlike many of her male counterparts in other heroic poems, she is not celebrated by those around her, or welcomed into the afterlife after her death. Instead, she tells us herself how after murdering her own sons she
. . . went to the sea-strand, [she] was enraged with the norns;
[She] wanted to reject their unyielding protection.
Great waves lifted [her], did not drown [her] –
so [she] came to land, [she] had to go on living (13a-d).
Guðrun’s attempted suicide and claim that she “had” to go on living makes it clear that she does not feel any sense of glory or pride in what she has done—rather, there is simply the sinking feeling that this was what was required by the values of her time. And although she goes on living, it is clear her life is not a happy one: she loses all of her children, and ends Guðrúnarhvǫt alone, praying for death so that she may be reunited with her husband Sigurd. The end of Guðrun’s story is an important element in the portrayal of women and revenge in Old Norse literature. Although there are multiple examples of women seeking revenge, and although they are commended for it if the poets approve of their motivations, they do not necessarily reap the rewards or experience glory in the aftermath the way a male hero might. The various composers of the above poems, though united in their praise of Guðrun, do not portray her life as one to emulate. They are willing to celebrate her deeds in literature, but imply that she may not get the same credit or acknowledgement if she were living among them.
There can be no doubt that vengeance is a central element to the story of Guðrun, no matter which of her poems we choose to look at. The positive, borderline celebratory portrayal of her revenge in Atlamál and Atlakviða offers us a potentially unexpected insight into the Old Norse approach to women and revenge: women were not prevented from exacting revenge, and in matters of family honour they could even be commended for taking a stand. However, Guðrun’s story also highlights the limitations surrounding women’s revenge. Vengeance was acceptable only in very specific circumstances, and personal grief or injustices were not necessarily justifiable motivations. In these poems the poets offer us a complex portrayal of Guðrun’s life and vengeance, simultaneously highlighting women’s options for agency in Old Norse society and reinforcing the constraints placed upon them.
Works Cited
Clark, David. “Undermining and En-Gendering Vengeance: Distancing and Anti-Feminism in the ‘Poetic Edda’.” Scandinavian Studies, vol. 77, no. 2, 2005, pp. 173-200.
Cronan, Dennis. “A Reading of Guðrúnarkviða Ǫnnor.” Scandinavian Studies, vol. 57, no. 2, 1985, pp. 174-187.
Frauman, Ali. “‘Um ǫll níðingsverk þín’: Femininity and Cowardice in the Hvǫt Episodes.” Scandinavian Studies, vol. 91, no. 3, 2019, pp. 269-288.
Larrington, Carolyne, editor. The Poetic Edda. Oxford World’s Classics, 2014.
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