15
Bernadette McCooey
Before the mechanization of farming in Iceland in the twentieth century, the availability of labour was one of the key factors that governed farming activities; a farmer could have plentiful resources but needed a workforce to exploit them. Unlike other regions of north-western Europe, Icelandic farming was pastoral in nature, and so labour-intensive tasks centred around hay-making and not grain-harvesting. Farm labour, whether kin or employed, was essential, yet there is a limited understanding of who undertook farm-related tasks in medieval Iceland. It will be argued here that there was a significant overlap in men and women undertaking daily farming tasks, especially when time was short and vital activities needed to be completed.1 Too often a gender division of labour framework is applied, which follows a binary approach of assigning activities as male or female tasks and neglects to consider influencing factors such as social status and experience.2 Moreover, there has been little discussion of children as labour providers. Despite our sources being mainly concerned with adults, we still have evidence for the involvement of children, albeit exceptional boys, in various tasks around the farm.3 This chapter examines the tasks we know children and women undertook. We will see that gender played a role in some situations, but other factors were of more importance, such as a person’s age, socioeconomic position and marital status. Furthermore, on an island at the limit of vegetation growth, selective use of available labour was a luxury few could afford, especially for labour-intensive activities.
Historical overview
Iceland was settled in the ninth and tenth centuries by immigrants mainly from Scandinavia and the British Isles. As with any unknown land, the settlers and their descendants underwent a period of adaptation as they adjusted their habits to the environment and climate. By the eleventh century, Christianity had been adopted and society was fairly settled with a hierarchy consisting of chieftains, independent farmers and tenant farmers.4 Women, as well as men, fell into these categories, and though women rarely became chieftains, they could be heads of households.5 Slavery, a practice that had been brought to Iceland with the settlers, had all but ceased by 1100 AD. It has been argued that slaves were replaced by dependent, or tenant, farmers, which moved some of the labour force outside the farmstead whilst maintaining authority over these farms.6 In a departure from traditional scholarship, recent research has shown that medieval Icelandic society was not egalitarian, and that manorial systems were in place relatively soon after the settlement.7 An annual countrywide assembly, the Alþing, was founded sometime in the tenth century. Across the country, there were smaller regional assemblies in the spring and autumn. Each district dealt with local legal disputes and, to a limited extent, proclaimed their own laws.8 Cases that were not resolved at the district assemblies could then be taken to the Alþing. Cases were, however, prosecuted and judgements enforced by private parties as there was no centralised authority in the country. Norwegian kings did exert some influence in Icelandic politics, yet this did not become official until 1262–64 when the country submitted to the Norwegian Crown, and then later to the Danish Crown in 1380.
The Icelandic population lived within dispersed farmsteads that were connected by a system of cooperation and bonds, whether between kin groups, chieftain and supporter, or parish and parishioner. The economy was based on livestock rearing, mainly cattle and sheep, as the climate did not favour arable farming.9 Fishing was important to the domestic economy from the time of the Settlement, and from the fourteenth century dried fish overtook woollen cloth, vaðmál, as the main export good.10
Sources
Our earliest sources about the working of Icelandic society in this period are sagas, tales of feuds and reconciliation. The period between c. 1100 and c. 1400 has been selected due to the relative abundance of these richly descriptive sagas. The sagas used in this chapter are separated into the categories of Íslendingasögur, also known as the Sagas of Icelanders, and Sturlunga saga, which is known as the Contemporary Sagas.11 The Íslendingasögur number about forty sagas in total, of various lengths, and provide most of our evidence for farming activities. They portray events in the tenth and eleventh centuries, but are thought to have been written down from the thirteenth century onwards. The dating of these sagas, either absolute or relative, is difficult because they survive in later copies of copies. However, most now agree that the Íslendingasögur are, in fact, twelfth and thirteenth century constructions of former times.12
Sturlunga saga, a collection of sagas set in the twelfth to midthirteenth centuries, were written within twenty to seventy years of the events they record. Named after one of the most powerful families at the time, they are concerned with political disputes in the decades before Iceland’s submission to the Norwegian Crown, and so contain less evidence about farming. In contrast to the Íslendingasögur, the closeness in time between the events and their recording have been thought to ensure the accuracy of the sagas. Some scholars, however, have raised questions about the misrepresentation of events in Sturlunga saga for political means, and advise caution when using the compilation in this respect.13 Nevertheless, they still contain evidence about labour and economic mechanisms useful for our discussion.
Both Íslendingasögur and Sturlunga saga mostly concern the activities of the upper strata of society, the chieftains, their families and their followers. And as such, they are unrepresentative of a wide section of society. Lower-status characters appear when they are needed to advance the plot.14 There are clear indicators of social differences between the chieftains and their followers on the one hand, and the tenant farmers and household servants on the other, especially regarding the farming activities that they undertake.15 These differences were not as great as in other regions of north-western Europe, as all the population relied on the same resources and engaged in farming activities, though to differing degrees.16 The details about farming tasks are therefore useful because they demonstrate not only potential gender differences, but also marital, social, economic and political status. Indeed, scholars who have written on the topic all agree that these aspects play a role in the assignment of farming tasks but disagree on which is of greater importance.17
As with all written sources, those that created them control the information we are given. For example, women are either represented as strong and independent, or as individuals who goad their male relatives into continuing feuds.18 We are receiving the sagas through the lens of mostly male, educated, Christian authors, and their attitudes toward women are likely to reflect these values.19 Indeed, the influence of Christianity on the Íslendingasögur has been much debated.20 It has been argued that women’s importance in vaðmál production contrasted with a decrease in social standing after the adoption of Christianity in c. 1000. Vaðmál production, however, continued and thus women were economically significant regardless of whether the women were recorded in the sagas or not. It appears that scholars sometimes fail to appreciate the nature of the sagas, that they are concerned with the elite and not economic production or the lives of the nonelite.21
The farming details, as with lower-status characters, are infrequent and only recorded when they relate to or advance the sagas’ plots. Activities are usually mentioned in passing or to provide context for the commencement of a feud. A partial picture is thus given of farming, and the people who undertook farming tasks. Farming activities along boundaries or in shared spaces, especially between farms, were more likely to cause disputes, and so were more likely to be recorded. Thus, we have more evidence about off-farm activities than those that took place on the farmstead, and this must be kept in mind when discussing task assignment in farm labour. Furthermore, because male characters were more likely to be involved in feuds, we have more examples of men undertaking tasks, but these examples do not indicate that men undertook relatively more of the work. It only means that their activities were deemed by those that compiled the sagas as more interesting, or necessary, to advancing the saga plot and giving detail to the context. As the sagas usually record feuds that centre on male, adult characters, we have more information on their lives and their participation in farming activities. Evidence about women and children’s role in farm labour is less common, but it is still possible to discuss their contribution to farming.
The second type of sources drawn upon are private legal compilations. These legal texts differ from the sagas, because they portray an idealised society with prescriptive regulations of how society should function, yet there is no way to examine how closely these laws were followed except as represented in the sagas.22 Grágás, probably compiled in the early twelfth century, is the earliest of the Icelandic legal texts, and was replaced with the Norwegian-influenced Járnsíða in 1271. Járnsíða proved unpopular and was replaced in 1281 by Jónsbók, of which some parts remain in use today, and with Búalög as a supplementary legal code.23 Búalög, the youngest legal text consulted in this chapter is more of a ‘household’ or ‘agricultural law’, prescribing on a range of issues from teaching of the alphabet to standard pay for farming tasks. The oldest copy dates to the fifteenth century. While the manuscripts are dated a little later than the scope of this chapter, the details they contain may have existed earlier and provide another perspective on the topic.
Discussion
Women were well-known in medieval Icelandic writings for their skills in milking and weaving. These activities were of great importance to society and the economy as women converted raw materials into finished products that were used to feed and clothe the household, as well as for rent and trade. Women’s roles in other areas of farming, however, are not always fully appreciated.24 The division of women doing milking and weaving, and men doing physically demanding tasks is a common dichotomy and the binary approach has been invoked for Icelandic farm labour across disciplinary boundaries.25 Furthermore, an assumption underpinning discussions of farmwork is that women lack the physical strength to undertake certain tasks.26 This assumption ignores the fact that milking and its processing, as well as weaving, requires strength and stamina and included their own dangers. Farming requires more than brute strength. The argument that men did the ‘hard’ labour, such as ploughing and turf-cutting, while women did less physically demanding work fails to acknowledge the requirements of different tasks.27 Moreover, there is saga evidence demonstrating that women did participate in fishing, or that it was at least conceivable for them to fish.28 The dichotomy is a simplistic approach to the various household structures across the Icelandic socioeconomic spectrum.29 As will be shown, households were not uniform in Iceland, and we have a skewed view of the complexities because the sagas concentrate on the activities of the elites.
Where the sagas do show women and men undertaking similar tasks, it is tempting to see these tasks as gender-neutral or, alternatively, as crossing gender norms, especially when undertaken away from the farmstead or at a temporarily-occupied site such as a shieling.30 We must remember, however, that where gender norms are represented in the sagas, they are more firmly fixed for higher-status characters, especially males, with more fluidity permitted for nonelites. It is not surprising that women are represented as background characters or as working while male characters wage feuds.31 It is also the case with servant-men, servant-women and slaves as these characters worked in the background while their employers or masters feuded. We cannot, therefore, say that there was a clear distinction between the activities of men and women, we need to consider other factors. The silence surrounding the activities of nonelite males, women and children says more about the saga authors than the realities of farming activities.
Children are rarely discussed as labour providers; emphasis instead is given to their position within households and society. Studies of medieval childhood have moved on from Ariès’ study of parent–child relations to consider the complexities of time, place, class and gender. There is a growing awareness of children as workers, both inside and outside of the family sphere. Shahar argues that medieval European writers were aware of the different stages of a child’s cognitive ability. Regarding children as workers, there was a general understanding in these medieval sources about the physical limits of children’s capabilities and the need not to overburden them too young.32 Children in medieval peasant society provided an important source of unpaid labour within the household, and the skills peasant girls learnt were more in line with those learnt by peasant boys than by girls of other social classes.33 As with other studies into childhood, the nature of the evidence for medieval Europe, including Iceland, has resulted in most of the discussions of child labour being focused on boys. As will be made clear below the experiences of boys recorded in the sagas were in no way normative.34 Indeed, the boys recorded in the sagas can be easily classed as exceptional, and therefore their experiences cannot be equated with the experience of girls or boys from lower social backgrounds. It has been argued that girls in the sagas were only seen in terms of the property they brought to the marriage bed; beauty and a nice personality were favourable qualities but not essential.35
Childhood studies is a newly emerging field within Icelandic scholarship and has the potential for expansion.36 Women’s studies, in contrast, is more established but has tended to concentrate on women as social actors in feuds, and this has restricted discussions mostly to elite women. Women as workers is quickly glossed over, though there are exceptions.37 Women and children sometimes occupy the same marginal place as their input was generally within the private sphere of the home, whereas men are seen in the public sphere and so we have more evidence of their role in the workforce.38 This was not quite the case in medieval Iceland as the farmstead served as the forum for both private and public activities.
Women
Some scholars have discussed women’s role in farm labour in collective terms, which can appear contradictory because women were not a homogeneous group. For example, Jochens argues that women worked harder and longer hours than men, but later implies that social position and the size of the household had a greater impact on the hours worked than gender.39 We must also consider women lower down the social hierarchy. We have more evidence for women as troublemakers, vengeful housewives and inciters, or ‘wife, mother and housekeeper’; these are mostly representative of elite women, and not those of servants or tenant farmers.40 In smaller, and presumably poorer households, women were more involved in farming activities, whereas in larger households the higher-status women had servants, or earlier slaves, to do the physical work. This was also true for men. Shepherds (sauðamaðr, smalamenn pl.) provide ample evidence to challenge the gender explanation for longer hours, as some shepherds were the first to rise in the morning, spending extended amounts of time away from the farmstead and returned late at night.41 To add further complexity to the discussion, some shepherds were also young people, so age must be considered. It is more likely that those at the lower end of the social scale undertook these tasks, whether male or female, because of the early mornings and demands of the tasks. We must examine more than just gender in our discussion of farm labour, as social status or economic position within a household influenced a character’s tasks. We must be aware that social and economic aspects might have had an impact on task assignment, especially in a region where survival might have necessitated flexibility with regard to gender and age. As such, the following discussion will include examples of both men and women’s labour input to show where similarities might have existed.
After stating that women worked longer and harder, Jochens also states that men and women needed to work together, but undertook complementary tasks. Relying on Grágás, Jochens argues for a division in tasks between men and women, as a wife was to manage the household and the milk-livestock whilst the husband managed everything else.42 Grágás, however, states that between a married couple, the man would manage the property,43 buying and selling, and the woman, if she has a share in the property and so wishes to, managed the household and milking-livestock.44 The clause therefore is more specific than Jochens implies and gives the woman some agency over whether she wants to manage the household. Presumably this clause refers to a married couple who were wealthy enough to establish their own household. Looking at gendered tasks, the clause shows that the head woman oversaw milking, an essential part of food production but not that she participated in it, and she also oversaw the servants, food and other tasks. We must therefore pay attention to the difference between a person managing tasks and undertaking those tasks. The man appeared to manage the outside property, possibly nonmilking livestock, and the buying and selling of land, and by implication farm produce. The rights of the wife relating to the buying and selling of property is addressed elsewhere in Grágás.45 The representations of farm management show that a husband and wife were expected to work together, but this legal clause does not tell us about the division of the farming activities, only who oversaw them. The well-known Laxdæla saga illustrates how Bolli and Guðrún, husband and wife who were the heads of their household, both went to their shieling.46 After being up early to give instructions to his workmen, Bolli returned to bed, where Guðrún also was, after the workmen had left. Thus, Bolli and Gúðrún can be seen as managing farming activities but not participating in the farming tasks. Married couples who did not own or rent their own farms but worked as servants within a household are also mentioned in Grágás. For example, a husband was expected to find his wife employment within a household by a certain date and if he did not find her a position of employment, then the woman could find her own employment.47 This clause firstly indicates that couples did not need to own their own farm in order to marry but could support themselves through employment.48 Furthermore, a married couple could potentially be employed in different households and not living together. And lastly, the husband was responsible for finding his wife’s employment in the first instance, though if he failed the woman could be expected to find her own employment. This clause does not state that the married couple employed as servants needed to be employed in the same household or on the same farm. In this clause we are informed who held responsibility for finding employment but not what employment in a household involved.
Once Grágás is clear on assigning responsibility for finding employment the text moves on to outline the obligations of employer and employee. Such tasks include rounding up sheep from the mountains, helping with the slaughter, spreading manure and fixing homefield walls, but not shepherding, all in return for board and lodging.49 There is some ambiguity about who Grágás is referring to in this clause as it uses the term maðr, which could mean either ‘men’ specifically or ‘people’ more generally.50 Only when Grágás uses the terms karl for a man and kona for a woman can we be certain of the genders. Grágás only makes a gender distinction once in this clause, and that is between young women (mær) and young men (karlmaðr) when stating the age at which they could arrange their own residence.51 Thus, it is possible the tasks recorded were open to both men and women, especially the labour-intensive annual activity of taking sheep down from the mountains. Additional tasks could have been undertaken if the maðr had more dependents than property to support them. These tasks included taking care of specific numbers of cattle, sheep and lambs, and the assigned wages for each category.52 There is no section concerning the assigned wages for tasks undertaken by women, though this could have been an oversight by the authors or not needed to be recorded. Jónsbók, the later legal text, does not regulate wages for any farming tasks for either men or women. Instead, it states that a contract agreed with a handshake is legally binding and lists consequences for contract-breaking, but it too uses the ambiguous term maðr.53
Búalög, the later text, also uses maðr in passages on meðalmannsverk, an average-man’s/person’s work, listing tasks such as spreading manure from a hundred horses, or cutting a hundred turfs seven feet long.54 The various manuscripts include lists of tasks but do not specify whether they should be undertaken by men or women. Specific tasks for women, such as weaving, milking and raking hay, are only explicitly referred to by terms such as meðalkonaverk or vinnukona. Both men and women were required to bring hay to the yard and stack it, suggesting that women undertook some of the same physical work as men, and stands in contrast to the gender division of labour discussed above.55 It is possible that due to dairying responsibilities, some women would be busy milking in the mornings when mowing began and so the task of mowing the hay fell to those not involved in milking.56 The milking women would then join the hay-making later and so did the raking. Indeed, Búalög supports this idea, stating that three women at a shieling were expected to milk eighty ewes and twelve cows, and that two of these women should return to the main farmstead for housework, or in some manuscripts, return for hay-making.57 The summer was a labour-intensive time in Iceland, when hay and other resource gathering occurred simultaneously. The most had to be made from the short summer. It would be expected that all the household contributed to ensure essential tasks were accomplished because their collective survival relied on these supplies. Búalög further specifies that a female day-labourer (ákæðakona) was expected to milk forty ewes a day and rake after a male day-labourer (ákæðamaðr).58 In addition, one manuscript states that an average-woman’s work included caring for twenty horses and taking mowed grass for them, which challenges the idea that men took care of the livestock and that women only handled the milk stock.59 An average-woman’s work also could include gathering twenty horse loads of brushwood – Iceland did not have carts – which demonstrates the diversity of tasks they undertook and that they travelled away from the farm.60
The sagas also demonstrate that women could be expected to care for livestock, as on a well-off farm, when the only people present were the farmer, his sons (one of which was nine-years-old), and a boy (piltr), the livestock were tended by a woman.61 In this example, when the available labour was limited, a woman could both tend the livestock, probably with the help of the farm-boy, along with her other responsibilities. The farm-boy, we discover, drove some horses away from the farm the previous night, so both he and the woman probably had several tasks whilst most of the household were away.
Búalóg does make a clear distinction concerning the wages men (karlmenn) and women (konr) received, with men consistently paid more in food and payment than women, usually by a third.62 Búalög therefore illustrates two points. Firstly, that the average-woman’s main tasks did pertain to the skilled activities of milking and weaving, but they were also expected to undertake other work and balance their time between these various tasks. Secondly, though their activities were valuable for survival and the production of exchangeable goods, legally they were paid approximately two-thirds of the wages of men. Whilst there may have been flexibility in the outdoor farming activities women undertook, in the prescriptive legal text, there was still a clear difference in their rate of pay. The legal texts are silent about child labour, suggesting that before the age of 16 and 20, for men and women, respectively, child labour was limited to the household, or unwaged as happened when parents were employed in a household.63 As our evidence for child labour is almost exclusively shepherding, it will be discussed below.
Gender roles
Based on the Íslendingasögur, it has been argued that Iceland operated under strict gender norms, where the wearing of the wrong clothes could be used to challenge a person’s gender.64 The division of the genders can even be seen in how tasks were assigned within farming activities. For example, in Bjarnar saga hítdælakappa, a man called Þórðr tells Oddný, his wife, to milk the sheep when they are driven in. Oddný responds by telling her husband to clean out the sheep-pens:
“you are to stay at home, because the sheep will be driven in during the day, and you must be here to see to the milking, though you don’t usually do it.”
She said, “Then I can see just the man to shovel dung from the sheep-pens; that’s what you are to do.”
“You are wrong to say that,” said Þórðr, “for I take more care of our farm than you do,”65
The literary evidence and Búalög infer that women were the ones who undertook milking, but that not all women did the task. The herding of livestock, though, was a mixed gender activity. An illustrative example of the shared responsibilities between men and women is found in Harðar saga, where two men later described as cattle-herders (nautamenn) blame women for loose cattle, believing they were not tied correctly.66 The women, who are only referred to as konr, blame the cattle-herders, believing that the herders must have fallen asleep. The men were in the hay-barn early in the morning playing a board game, while the women came in later, probably for morning milking. Therefore, both men and women had a role to play in cattle husbandry. Shared responsibility is also found in Fljótsdæla saga, when Þuríðr and Oddbjörg, mother and daughter, meet their cattle-herder (nautmaðr) in their byre one morning.67 We can assume that mother and daughter went for morning milk and the herder was there, as in the previous example, to feed and tend the livestock.68 The character of Þuríðr also gives another perspective on the authority that women had in managing farming tasks, specifically women who were heads of households. After the death of her husband, Þuríðr assumed control of the farm and moved it to another location. The saga speaks in positive terms about both Þuriðr and Oddbjörg, stating that Þuriðr was ‘a very wise woman, and had a mind of her own’, no doubt demonstrated by her establishment and management of the new farm.69
The Íslendingasögur do depict women as strong and confident within different household structures, particularly women who had no male relatives, and managed their own property and thrived.70 Auðr the Deep-Minded illustrates this point well as she established herself in Iceland without her husband, who had previously died.71 Other women held equal authority with their husbands and took an active role in the management of property and staff. The most famous examples can be found in Njáls saga with Bergþóra and Hallgerðr. When a man comes asking for work, Bergþóra states: “I am Njáll’s wife… and I have no less authority in hiring than he does.”72 She concludes by hiring the man without consulting Njáll, and gives him the task of killing Hallgerðr’s servant, which had earlier killed one of Bergþóra’s servants, and so the feud escalates. Women could also have independence within a household, as shown by a mother living at her daughter and son-in-law’s farm, but managing her own estate and cows demonstrating a form of independence, though she got fodder from her former partner and her brother to feed her cows.73
Managing a farm was not a leisurely role, as the wife of Ásgeirr managed both their farm and went with the sheep to pasture.74 Unfortunately, as is commonly the case in the sagas, we are not told the name of Ásgeirr’s wife, as her purpose in the saga was to give birth to sons whilst at the pasture, and she is not mentioned again. In contrast, Yngvildr, her daughter, is named because she appears later in the saga. We should not expect one representation of a woman in authority to fit all situations, as women in authority were just as varied as the men, though less frequently illustrated, and their positions depended on their socioeconomic status.
While there are differences between men and women in the sagas, there are some similarities.75 For example, men and women could own prized livestock. Individual horses or other animals identified by name are significant in the sagas, usually because they display a prized quality and illustrate some personal connection between owner and animal.76 There are seven examples of men owning named horses and two examples of women.77 The most detailed concerns Gróa, a wealthy widow without children, who owns a horse named Inni-Krákr. She comes to Iceland after the death of her husband, which allows her to act in her own right because she has no male relatives through which she has to act. She is said to have managed her farm well and her horse is present at dramatic moments in the saga.78 The second horse is Eykjarðr, a plough-horse, which Þuríðr rides away on after reminding her sons of the unavenged death of another son.79 It is significant that all the named horses owned by men are stallions, and known for their fighting prowess or breeding potential. Inni-Krákr and Eykjarðr, however, are used for pulling sledges or ploughs. From the infrequent recording of named horses, it could be argued that the owner’s gender dictated whether their horse was recorded as a full stallion or a gelding. It is, however, more likely that as Inni-Krákr and Eykjarðr were work-horses and geldings, as opposed to a fighting or breeding horse. Making public accusations of bestiality were a powerful way in the sagas to humiliate an enemy, and even the riding of female horses could lead to men being labelled as female.80 As such, there is a taboo around men and female animals in the sagas that suggests that gender played a role.81 Therefore, Inni-Krákr and Eykjarðr were geldings; otherwise Gróa and Þuríðr would have been represented in a similar manner to the male characters found in the sagas.
The Íslendingasögur make frequent references to the negative, even slanderous, associations of male characters with female animals.82 Gender plays a role in these situations but is also dependant on the life cycle of the animal, and responsibilities differed depending on a character’s place in the household, regardless of gender. The socioeconomic differentiation can be seen in Bjarnar saga hítdælakappa, when a male farmhand (húskarl) was more familiar with the cattle byre than his employer, but strictly concerned himself with matters of hay, refusing to move a newly-born calf into the stall with the cow when the calf is found lying on the floor of the byre.83 The farmhand, a lower-status male than the farmer, did not want to be associated with or even touch the calf. The farmer instead moved the calf, and this incident is later put into verse that equated the farmer with a midwife for cattle. The farmer’s awareness of the stigma surrounding men and calving is clear from his interpretation of the poem as an insult, and his lawsuit against the poet and the poem’s recital. The taboo transcended socioeconomic standing as the farmhand, lower down the household hierarchy, refused to touch the new-born calf. Thus, gender did play a role in tasks relating to bearing young as it was left to women, and men, both householder and servant, attempted to separate themselves from this matter as any association with certain roles may move them towards ‘female’ and away from ‘male’ on the gender spectrum.84
The disdain of male characters for milking, or any female bodily functions, is further shown when Skarphéðinn throws a series of insults at Þorkell. Skarphéðinn lists dishonourable acts and malicious gossip, and must be given in full to be appreciated:
It’s never happened that I threatened my own father or fought him, as you did to your father. Also, you haven’t come to the Althing often or taken part in lawsuits, and you’re probably handier at dairy work in the isolation of your farm at Öxará. You ought really to pick from your teeth the mare’s arse you ate before riding to the Thing – your shepherd watched you and was shocked that you could do such a filthy thing.85
While Skarphéðinn questioned Þorkell’s family honour, his social and legal inactivity and his consumption of horsemeat, with heavy sexual and pagan undertones, Þorkell was equated with a female household servant.86 None of these insults sit well with the warrior image of Þorkell, who responded by boasting of his combat victories. The inclusion of milking demonstrates the severity of taboo surrounding men and dairy work, especially for high-status males.
Less insulting but still emphasising a lowering of social status is the example of the chieftain Hrafnkel, who lost his property and the saga records that he specifically was forced to rear calves and kids during his first winter at his new farm.87 As he moved with his household he might have overseen the management while others did the actual rearing, yet it was a significant enough socioeconomic loss for Hrafnkel that the saga included the detail.
The sagas do occasionally show men handling cows and with knowledge of milking and calving without passing judgement. A cattle-herder (nautamaðr) and a male farmer knew the signs when a recently returned cow was found to be in-calf.88 Nor was the byre the sole realm of women. A man (maðr) later called a male-servant (húskarl) was tending the nonmilking stock when he came to complain of a haunting.89 The man was the cattle-herder, as the farmer and servant go to the byre (fjós), where other sagas record milking cows being kept. Again, this emphasises the shared responsibilities of men and women for the animals, both inside and outside the byre. It appears that women were the first people to visit the byre in the morning, as in Bandamanna saga when women discovered the injured cows, but the men could be there during the night.90
Furthermore, men might even be sought out for assistance with cows, as a farmer with a sick cow sought the advice of another farmer and implied that the farmer’s father was also sought for help with sick livestock.91 The visit to the sick cow was a plausible request as it raised no suspicion even though the trip was used as an excuse to lure the farmer away from the safety of his farm. Another example set in the early decades of Icelandic history tells of Máni, a Christian described as a hermit, who did not want to interact with non-Christians.92 The saga states that he survived by cutting hay that fed a cow, which gave him milk. As he was a hermit, it is implied that he lived alone and milked the cow himself.
Men, therefore, did tend cattle and could milk but in the sources milking and calving were generally designated as women’s work and undertaken by women occupying lower socioeconomic positions within a household. Nevertheless, anyone involved with livestock was expected to have knowledge of the animals and when an animal was sick a person, female or male, known to have some skill at healing livestock would be sought out.
Children and young people
Recent scholarship on childhood in medieval Iceland has not paid much attention to the issue of children’s economic contribution to their household.93 Our most detailed example of a child’s involvement in farm work is that of the famous outlaw Grettir. At the age of ten, his father thinks Grettir is ready to assist with farming tasks and his saga states:
Grettir grew up at Bjarg to the age of ten. He began to develop then and Asmundr (Grettir’s father) told him he would have to do some work on the farm. Grettir answered that he was not suited for it, but asked all the same what he was supposed to do.
Asmundr said, “You shall look after the geese I am rearing.”
“A trifling job for weaklings,” Grettir replied…94
In what was to become a common theme throughout Grettir’s life he became frustrated, as while the task is age appropriate Grettir believed it is too lowly a task for himself, and so killed the goslings and broke the wings of the adult geese.95
Some time later, Asmundr told Grettir to look after his horses. Grettir said he liked that idea more than rubbing his father’s back by the fire… Grettir replied (to his father Asmundr), “That’s a cold and manly job.” … Grettir had thin clothes on and was still fairly tender. He began to feel the cold…96
Grettir again became annoyed, this time with the lead mare who stood in the most exposed places and refused to return to the farm even when the weather was cold. Grettir flayed her back so the mare returned to the farm to escape the flies.
Setting aside Grettir’s maltreatment of geese and horses, something that foreshadows later events in his life, we can see from this example, that at a certain age it was thought appropriate to start children’s training in farming tasks. Children were given a relatively small task to begin their training on a farm, and then progressed to the more challenging task, such as herding horses. Grettir is undeniably atypical of most children, and being the son of a well-off householder meant that there may not have been an urgent onus placed upon him to learn the skills of farming. It appears that the offspring of wealthier householders did not always participate in farming tasks, as later in Grettis saga, the grown-up sons of another householder refuse to help the farm’s shepherd when he asks for their assistance.97 While this incident is part of the saga’s commentary on the sons, it does suggest that the offspring of wealthier parents were not required to assist in farm tasks.
Shepherding
In poorer households, where the farm labour was provided by the family and did not include farmhands, the refusal to participate was not an option. In Fljótsdæla saga, a father tells his son to fetch the sheep back to the farmstead. When the son says he will get his hood and gloves first, the father chastises him and the son, scared of his father, sets off immediately.98 The urgency of gathering the sheep matches the tense situation at this point in the saga, but nevertheless shows that in small households all members were expected to undertake tasks. Unlike Grettir, who went herding in thin clothes and was unprepared for the weather, the other boy clearly understood the necessity of additional layers to protect him from the cold and wind.99 Gestr, another young boy (sveinn) who is described as ‘little and light on his feet’, watched over sheep even when the temperature was below freezing.100 While the weather is an incidental detail in the saga, it shows that it was conceivable for a boy to be responsible for sheep even in cold weather. It is especially likely that Gestr, an orphaned child dependent on the household for his survival, would be tasked with the duty because of his lowly status. Not only is he an orphan, but his father was killed without compensation, and the saga informs us, the killer does not intend to provide any redress, instead mockingly offering a poorly fleeced lamb, an animal of little value. As Gestr is an orphan, and seemingly without family to prosecute his father’s killing, or to take care of him, his life might have been unremarkable except that he at a young age took it upon himself to avenge his father’s death. Indeed, this example echoes the same motif as Hávarðar saga Ísafirðings, where the two young brothers are also underestimated by a man who dishonoured their father.101
In Fóstbræðra saga, a slightly older boy is herding sheep back to his father’s farm and makes use of a wandering horse which he comes upon.102 While the confrontation that follows with the horse’s rightful owner does smack of a stereotypical teenager finding his feet in society, it also shows a young person transitioning to adulthood. We are not told the boy’s age, but as the boy still lives in his father’s household, the boy’s labour input contributes towards his father’s household. These examples show how young boys were taking on adult characteristics, demonstrating agency in their own matters and questioning social norms regarding appropriate behaviour to their social superiors or adults. In the case of Gestr and the two young brothers, there is no one else to right the wrong they felt had been done to them. Therefore, even though they are young they take on the responsibility of avenging the dishonour. Female relatives are not mentioned, or in Gestr’s case, his only female relative is his young sister. These boys must therefore act as adult males and so are worthy of being included in their respective sagas.
Shepherds were essential for a society that relied so heavily on pastoral farming for its existence. Shepherds frequently appear in the sagas as their duties involve them criss-crossing the landscape, seeing people’s movements and hearing gossip.103 Shepherding may appear as a male-only task, but an overview of herding evidence shows it to be a little more complicated as herding sheep is portrayed as an undesirable job commonly undertaken by boys. There are a few examples of women, or young girls herding livestock, such as in the contemporary saga Guðmundar saga dýra, where the dairy maid (meystelpa) drove cattle to pasture on another farm’s hayfield.104
Most incidents involving shepherds, of which there are over eighty found mostly in the Íslendingasögur, refer to the characters as sauðamaðr, smalamaðr or nautamaðr only, or simply that a character, either húskarlr or more rarely vinnu-/verkmenn, drove livestock without giving a specific title to their task. In addition to the examples above, there are eight cases where we have evidence that boys specifically herded animals. Sometimes the initial description refers to the character as sauðamaðr or smalamaðr, but then the same character is later referred to as boy (sveinn).105 The sagas can also describe the character as shepherd-boy or farm-boy (smalapíltr, smalasveinn).106 In Harðar saga, a boy accompanies a man to drive cattle and is specifically called little boy (sveinn lítill), while in Íslendinga saga, a horse-boy or stablehand (hestasveinnn) drove horses away.107 In these cases, it seems that the boys were part of the household, but that they were not the sons of the householder. It appears, instead, that these boys were either employed within the household, or the sons of people employed in the household.
There is one example in Íslendinga saga where we do know the familial context of the shepherd, he is described as the son of the cattle-herder, though his age is not given.108 In this example, the father is paid for his service, and receives food and lodging at the farm, whereas the son only gets food and board for looking after the sheep. The difference in pay must be due to their age or rather experience, and the value attached to cattle and sheep. Throughout this period, cattle were always more valuable animals, and required larger quantities of better quality hay, while sheep could survive on less, rougher fodder and remain outside in all but the worst weather. Thus, cattle required closer attention, and more experience, but sheep could be driven to graze at a distance from the farm for extended periods of time. Indeed, the son was not at the farm when the father was dismissed. He only returned later to find his father inexplicably gone. The significance of the details of the father–son relationship is included because the son gives his employer a mortal wound, believing him to have killed his father. The saga does not condemn this act, as it continues to describe the son in positive terms, even when he has been captured. His father turned up alive and well as a worker on another farm, but had not, or could not, send word to his son, which ultimately led to his employer’s and son’s death.
The movement of children between households is frequently presented in the Íslendingasögur in the form of fostering arrangements, whether between equals, children of independent farmers sent to dependent farmers or vice versa.109 Children, or rather young people, could also move household in the search for employment. On smaller farms, where there was sufficient labour available to meet the farm’s needs but insufficient resources to sustain all members of the household, employment could be sought on other farms, and applied to young people. For example, a father told his son to look for employment because he has sufficient labour, but insufficient means. The father believes the son to be the most capable of his children, and the one he loves the most, so he will have a better chance of finding work.110 The son does find work but as he is late in asking his only option, the saga records, is the least desirable job of herding the sheep. These examples show that there were differing rates of pay between jobs on a farm due to age, as well as the differences based on gender discussed above. A hierarchy existed within households, not just between social standing, householder and servant, but also between servants.111
Exceptional boys
Lengthier descriptions of exceptional children are given about those whose parents are chieftains or prominent householders, usually to foreshadow their achievements, or notoriety, in adult life. The following discussion will be restricted to the children’s participation in farming activities, and in this regard the sagas appear to limit themselves to boys.112 Generally, the sagas are more concerned with male characters than female characters, and so concentrate on the childhood of boys rather than girls. Women usually come into sagas as daughters or wives, and as such the sagas pay less attention to their childhood.113 Furthermore, boys undertook more memorable acts, especially of strength or cunning, which were characteristics of adult males. We are told that a 12-year-old outlawed a man over a killing about grazing rights, indicating even at a young age the character was, precociously, already legally active.114 Indeed, age was not always a restriction to a boy’s role in society, and as Grágás permitted boys to participate in some legal proceedings from the age of twelve years, it is possible that twelve was the youngest age imaginable for a boy to begin acting as an adult.115 For example, a fourteen-year-old boy established joint ownership of property with his mother after the death of his father.116 A fifteen- or sixteen-year old boy asked his father to divide his property and established his own farmstead.117 Another fifteen-year-old, Özurr, fled to Iceland after killing a man, claimed land and established his own household.118 Killing a man at fifteen was not unknown, and Grágás seems to suggest it was conceivable for a child as young as twelve years to kill.119 By the time Özurr arrived and established himself in Iceland, he would have been sixteen years, or near as, which is the legal age for establishing a household.120
Specifically relating to farming, we are informed that Urðarköttr, a twelve-year-old boy, killed an aggressive bull that had disrupted the servants’ work.121 He killed the bull by breaking its neck, an exceptional feat for an adult let alone a boy. Of note is that the adult servant-women (griðkonr) thought that the boy, the son of the householder, should resolve the issue in his father’s absence. The saga tells that:
One morning the servant-women came in yelling and said that the bull had kicked over the bucket. “Are you there, Urðarköttr, you coward? When something needs to be done you are about as useful as having no man at all.”
They blamed and abused him in everything they said.
Urðarköttr replied, “The worse he deals with you, the better it is, and you won’t improve matters by pouring scorn on me.”
They then ran to him and said, “Good Urðarköttr, come and help us.”
They then praised him in everything they said.
Urðarköttr then replied, “It’s much more fitting and proper to ask me politely, and certainly I’ll go now.”122
The farm’s servant-women criticised him initially, before changing tactic to play to his ego, showing their desperation for assistance. Male farmhands (húskarlr) were present, as they butchered the dead animal, but did not, or could not, deal with the bull. The story demonstrates how social and economic status could be important, as a well-off boy was thought better suited to the task than servant-women, and even servant-men. Later, the saga says that all thought the boy’s deed remarkable, except his father who remains quiet, echoing the uneasy father–son relationship that is found with Grettir and Asmundr in Grettis saga.123
Another uneasy father–son relationship comes to light when a father requests his twelve-year-old son, Ormr, to help with the hay-making.124 Ormr’s father appears to expect him to be able to work and have the strength of an adult as they build a haystack, though he is only twelve. Later, the father gives Ormr a scythe and tells him to cut hay. Ormr finds the scythe unsuitable so forges his own scythe, and then uses this scythe to cut the hay and the hummocks in the field. The saga records that Ormr mowed until evening and cut an exceptional amount of hay and created the only hummock-free land owned by the farm. His father, however, was not impressed. The saga also shows that all available labour was required on a farm during labour-intensive activities, and that children may be expected to work. In the cases of Urðarköttr and Ormr, the sagas appear sympathetic to the boys being forced to take on adult tasks whilst limited in their size and strength due to their age. Along with these adult abilities, though, came determination that can be interpreted as stubbornness especially by their fathers.
A more realistic incident of boyish conduct on a farm is where Brodd-Helgi, seeing that his farm’s bull is losing in a fight with a neighbouring farm’s bull, attaches an ice spurt to the head of the farm’s bull to give it an advantage in the fight.125 We are not told the boy’s age, but even as a boy the character is aware of the loss of reputation caused by a defeat. Two brothers, ten and twelve, also understand injustice has been done to them, and though they are not sons of chieftains they take the opportunity to kill the chieftain that wronged their father.126 The saga emphasises the position of the sons’ household as their father loses out to their aggressive chieftain over a disputed piece of land. Furthermore, unlike other exceptional boys recorded in the sagas, these two boys go to check their farm’s livestock during bad weather, something a wealthier farm would send a farmhand to do. Before the brothers’ action, therefore, we are already clearly aware that they are from a smaller household, and their killing of the chieftain shows their disregard for their relative social standing, a concern the saga voices through their father. The young boys discussed here are all exceptional because they take on adult traits in their own way before they reach adulthood, either displaying great physical strength or defending the honour of their household.
Age could be a limiting factor on a person’s ability, yet this was not always the case. The Íslendingasögur have a narrow social focus, being more concerned with the activities of the wealthier and high-status adult, male characters. Nevertheless, the sagas do provide occasional insights into the lives of children, mainly boys, and the children’s socioeconomic positions, which permits us to construct an understanding of childhood within the farming environment not just on the public stage. We are therefore able to conclude that some young males undertook responsibilities more commonly undertaken by adults, whether in court or on the farm. The sagas generally represent these unusual youths in positive terms for their actions and abilities, whilst acknowledging the physical limits of most children.
Conclusion
The sagas contain scattered evidence for labour on medieval Icelandic farms c. 1100–1400, and these references are only included in the sagas because they were ‘saga-worthy’. Despite such limitations, the sagas do offer us some important, if infrequent, insights into those who undertook daily farming tasks. From these examples we can see that task assignment was based on more than gender. Women’s experiences would have varied depending on their socioeconomic position within a household, and we must pay attention to difference in social status. As is sometimes the case, the sagas’ represent characters for comic effect, such as Oddný, who believes milking ewes is below her social standing; it was not just gender but also women’s position within households that governed their tasks. The laws also support economic as well as gender discrimination, as women’s rate of pay was consistently lower than for men. Furthermore, the modern cultural assumption that men are strong and women are weak is shown to be unfounded, as women undertook tasks thought of as male by some modern scholars discussed above. Indeed, when the need arose women assumed roles thought of as exclusively masculine, such as fishing. We also need to see children and young people as labour providers, though our evidence is even scarcer than for women. All children would have needed a grounding in farming in preparation for adulthood, yet their parents’ status influenced the tasks they did, and the necessity of their participation. Grettir herded horses that were expected to return to the farmstead at night, he was not expected to chase sheep down from the mountains. Young people too received a reduced rate of pay, as testified in the sagas. Household size also affected task assignment, as smaller households needed flexibility, whereas larger households could employ people for specific jobs. Male and female householders might not have been involved in all farming activities, such as Bolli and Guðrún, who slept whilst their servants worked.
Icelandic society was more varied than portrayed by the laws, and more complicated than represented by the sagas. We also need to recognise the interplay of a range of factors, including gender, socioeconomic position, marital status or rather the absence of male relatives and age in shaping what work was done and by whom. Members of a household, regardless of whether man, woman, adult or child, needed to work together to make the most of the short but abundant summers, to ensure they survived through the winter. We need to appreciate the diversity of the labour force to fully understand farm production.
Notes
1. In discussions about women in medieval Icelandic society, there is a tendency to discuss wealthier women due to more frequent details about them. For a brief discussion of source limitations on the study of women see Agnes S. Arnórsdóttir, Property and Virginity: The Christianization of Marriage in Medieval Iceland 1200-1600 (Aarhus, 2010), p. 37.
2. See for example Emigh, R.J., ‘The Gender Division of Labour: The Case of Tuscan Smallholders’, Continuity and Change 15(1) (2000), pp. 117–37, particularly pp. 118–21.
3. Childhood studies on medieval Iceland has examined children and young people in many areas of life, but not yet in connection with their economic role in farming. See for example, C. Larrington, ‘Awkward Adolescents: Male Maturation in Norse Literature’, in S. Lewis-Simpson (ed.) Youth and Age in the Medieval North (Leiden, 2008), pp. 15–66, C. Callow. ‘Transitions to Adulthood in Early Icelandic Society’, in S. Crawford and G. Shepherd (eds.) Children, Childhood and Society (Oxford, 2007), pp. 45–56, and Ármann Jakobsson and Torfi H. Tulinius (eds.), Miðaldabörn (Reykjavík, 2005).
4. Anna Sigurðardóttir, Vinna kvenna á Íslandi í 1100 ár (Reykjavík, 1985), pp. 23, 25.
5. Women are sometimes not named, which most often occurs for married women who appear briefly in the saga, and so women may be simply referred to as a male character’s wife or daughter. Furthermore, due to the varied nature of women’s work they are rarely referred to by job description, which is more often but not always the case with male jobs. An illustrative example of this last point can be seen when Þuríðr, Hallstein’s daughter, is given the responsibility for managing (til forráða) Þórir’s farm. Although no specific title is given, Þuríðr became the housekeeper, a position of respect and authority. (Þorskfirðinga saga, chapter 7, The Complete Sagas of Icelanders III, p. 343, Íslenzk Fornrit XIII, p. 194). Hereafter The Complete Sagas of Icelanders will be referred to as SofI, and Íslenzk Fornrit as ÍF. To maintain consistency inside and outside quotations, Old Norse spellings will be given for names and terms.
Women in the upper strata of society or in charge of a household could also be called a húsfreyja, which can be translated as housewife or mistress of the house. The sagas do record some of their tasks, though in very general terms, such as knowing what food was available (Íslendinga saga, chapter 96, Sturlunga saga I (English), p. 271, Sturlunga saga I (Icelandic), p. 369). See also Anna Sigurðardóttir, Vinna kvenna á Íslandi í 1100 ár (Reykjavík, 1985) for the various tasks undertaken by women. Other women that appear in the sagas were servant-women (griðkonr pl.), or female slaves or bonded women (ambáttir pl.). While these mostly seem to be silent background characters, some played more active roles, such as the famous Egill Skallagrímrsson’s foster-mother, Þorgerðr brák, who is referred to as ambátt, (Egils saga Skalla-grímssonar chapter 40, SofI I p. 78, ÍF II, p. 101). The terms used to refer to these members of the household imply different rights and obligations, as testified by the legal texts. After slavery ceased, however, the work servants undertook included those tasks previously done by slaves. There was a change in social organisation, but this was not accompanied by a technological change. Therefore, the terms may vary but the tasks remained and so did hierarchies within households, as reflected by the status attached to certain tasks, discussed later. In this chapter, the various terms used to refer to women and children will be included to illustrate the range of tasks they undertook.
6. D. Bolender, J. Steinberg and E. Durrenberger, ‘Unsettled Landscapes: Settlement Patterns and the Development of Social Inequality in Northern Iceland’, in L. Cliggett and C. Pool (eds.) Economies and the Transformation of Landscape (Plymouth, 2008), pp. 217–38, 217–8; Orri Vésteinsson, ‘A Divided Society: Peasants and the Aristocracy in Medieval Iceland’, Viking and Medieval Scandinavia 3 (2007), pp. 117–39, 130–1.
7. For a discussion of the Icelandic manorial system see Árni Daníel Júlíusson, ‘Signs of Power: Manorial Demesnes in Medieval Iceland’, Viking and Medieval Scandinavia 6 (2010), pp. 1–29. For an overview of the scholarship of class in early medieval Iceland, see H.J. Orning, ‘Class’, in Ármann Jakobsson and Sverrir Jakobsson (eds.) The Routledge Research Companion to the Medieval Icelandic Sagas (Abingdon, 2017), pp. 305–17, especially pp. 306–8.
8. For example, the Alþing proclaimed a standardised price-list for various goods, but the local assemblies could set their own price-lists, though only the Árnes þing price-list has survived. See Grágás (2000) K.246, pp. 207–10, Grágás (1852) K.246, pp. 193–4; Alþing: Diplomatarium Islandicum I, pp. 162–7 hereafter referred to as DI; Árnes þing: DI I, pp. 315–7; Jónsbók (1970) VIII, 5, pp. 214–5; Jónsbók (2010) VIII, 5, p. 303; Alþing: DI II, pp. 167–71.
9. Arable farming was limited in Iceland because of the environment and climate, and grain-growing decreased significantly by the 1200s, and is thought to have ceased by the 1500s. I. Simpson, W. Adderley, G. Guðmundsson, M. Hallsdóttir, M. Sigurgeirsson and M. Snæsdóttir, ‘Soil Limitations to Agrarian Land Production in Premodern Iceland’, Human Ecology 30(4) (2002), pp. 423–43, 424.
10. M. Gardiner and N. Mehler, ‘English and Hanseatic Trading and Fishing Sites in Medieval Iceland: Report on Initial Fieldwork’, Germania 85 (2007), pp. 385–427, 397. Vaðmál, though, still remained important, M. Hayeur Smith, ‘Thorir’s Bargain: Gender, Vaðmál and the Law’, World Archaeology 45(5) (2013), pp. 730–46, 742. Marine resources were redistributed to inland areas, as shown by the recovery of marine species at early sites fifty to sixty kilometers inland, see T. McGovern, S. Perdikaris, Á. Einarsson and J. Sidell, ‘Coastal Connections, Local Fishing, and Sustainable Egg Harvesting: Patterns of Viking Age Inland Wild Resource Use in Mývatn District, Northern Iceland’, Environmental Archaeology 11(2) (2006), pp. 187–205, 42; T. McGovern, S. Perdikaris and C. Tinsley, ‘Economy of Landnám: The Evidence of Zooarchaeology’, in A. Wawn and T. Sigurðardottir (eds.) Approaches to Vinland (Reykjavik, 2001), pp. 154–66, 159.
11. The Contemporary Sagas also include the Byskupa sögur, Bishops’ sagas, hagiographical writing based and written about the same time as Sturlunga Saga.
12. Vesteinn Ólason, ‘Family Sagas’, in R. McTurk (ed.) A Companion to Old Norse-Icelandic Literature and Culture (Oxford, 2005), pp. 101–18, 101–2.
13. Úlfar Bragason, ‘Sagas of Contemporary History (Sturlunga saga): Texts and Research’, in R. McTurk (ed.) A Companion to Old Norse-Icelandic Literature and Culture (Oxford, 2005), pp. 427–46, 440.
14. The sagas do not provide details on all aspects of life and are frustratingly silent on certain topics. The sagas, for example, do not record metal-working or turf-cutting, activities that are commonly thought of as masculine. Anna Sigurðardóttir, Vinna kvenna á Íslandi í 1100 ár (Reykjavík, 1985), p. 28.
15. Anna Sigurðardóttir, Vinna kvenna á Íslandi í 1100 ár (Reykjavík, 1985), p. 57.
16. C. Callow. ‘Transitions to Adulthood in Early Icelandic Society’, in S. Crawford and G. Shepherd (eds.) Children, Childhood and Society (Oxford, 2007), pp. 45–56, 47; W.I. Miller, ‘Why Is Your Axe Bloody?’: A Reading of Njáls Saga (Oxford, 2014), p. 98 briefly discusses the similarities in attitudes between the wealthy farmers and those lower down the social hierarchy.
17. For example: Auður Magnúsdóttir, ‘Kvinnor i sagorna’, in N.L. Coleman and N. Løkka (eds.) Kvinner i vikingtid (Oslo, 2014), pp. 59–87, 70; J. Jochens, Women in Old Norse Society (London, 1995), pp. 100, 120; Anna Sigurðadóttir, Vinna kvenna á Íslandi í 1100 ár (Reykjavík, 1985), pp. 57–8; Helgi Þorláksson, ‘Arbeidskvinnens, särlig veverskens, ökonomiske stilling på Island i middelalderen’, in H. Gunneng and B. Strand (eds.), Kvinnans ekonomiska ställning under nordisk medeltid: Uppsatser framlagda vid ett kvinnohistoriskt symposium i Kungälv 8-12 oktober 1979 (Gothenburg, 1981), pp. 50–65, 62.
18. Auður Magnúsdóttir, ‘Kvinnor i sagorna’, in N.L. Coleman and N. Løkka (eds.) Kvinner i vikingtid (Oslo, 2014), p. 80; ‘Arbeidskvinnens, särlig veverskens, ökonomiske stilling på Island i middelalderen’, in H. Gunneng and B. Strand (eds.) Kvinnans ekonomiska ställning under nordisk medeltid: Uppsatser framlagda vid ett kvinnohistoriskt symposium i Kungälv 8-12 oktober 1979 (Gothenburg, 1981), pp. 50–65, 51.
19. Helgi Þorláksson, ‘Arbeidskvinnens, särlig veverskens, ökonomiske stilling på Island i middelalderen’, in H. Gunneng and B. Strand (eds.), Kvinnans ekonomiska ställning under nordisk medeltid: Uppsatser framlagda vid ett kvinnohistoriskt symposium i Kungälv 8-12 oktober 1979 (Gothenburg, 1981), pp. 50–65, 51–52; Auður Magnúsdóttir, ‘Kvinnor I sagorna’, in N.L. Coleman and N. Løkka (eds.) Kvinner i vikingtid (Oslo, 2014), p. 64.
20. Agnes S. Arnórsdóttir, ‘Nokkrar hugleiðingar um kynbundið uppeldi á miðöldum’, in Ármann Jakobsson and Torfi H. Tulinius (eds.) Miðaldabörn (Reykjavík, 2005), pp. 101–12, 103, 108; Helgi Þorláksson, ‘Arbeidskvinnens, särlig veverskens, ökonomiske stilling på Island i middelalderen’, in H. Gunneng and B. Strand (eds.) Kvinnans ekonomiska ställning under nordisk medeltid: Uppsatser framlagda vid ett kvinnohistoriskt symposium i Kungälv 8-12 oktober 1979 (Gothenburg, 1981), pp. 50–65, 51.
21. J. Jochens, Women in Old Norse Society (London, 1995), p. 100 states that the sagas relegate women to the background where they are seen working whilst some men participate in other activities, but the sagas concentrate on those involved in feuds so would not show butter churning if it did not relate to the plot. Butter, though, was important for the paying of tithes. The lack of inclusion in the sagas, however, does not mean that women‘s labour input was unimportant or that they were limited in abilities. See also Orri Vésteinsson, ‘A Divided Society: Peasants and the Aristocracy in Medieval Iceland’, Viking and Medieval Scandinavia 3 (2007), pp. 117–39, 123 for contrast with older scholarship.
22. The laws were invoked in the sagas, but again these examples show how the laws were used, not how closely they were followed, and are unrepresentative of all cases as they usually are recorded when the litigation ended badly.
23. Jón Viðar Sigurðsson, Chieftains and Power in the Icelandic Commonwealth (trans.) J. Lundskær-Nielsen (Odense, 1999), p. 19; P. Sørensen, Saga and Society: An Introduction to Old Norse Literature (trans.) J. Tucker (Odense, 1993), p. 95. Due to the short life of Járnsíða it will not be included in the following discussion as it is thought to reflect Norwegian, rather than Icelandic, practices, Jónsbók (2010), p. xxiii.
24. See Anna Sigurðadóttir, Vinna kvenna á Íslandi í 1100 ár (Reykjavík, 1985) for evidence of the wide range of activities women, and sometimes children, undertook.
25. K. Milek, ‘The Role of Pit Houses and Gendered Spaces on Viking-Age Farmsteads in Iceland’, Medieval Archaeology 56 (2012), pp. 85–130, 119–20 though this is contradicted later in P. Kupiec and K. Milek, ‘Roles and Perceptions of Shielings and the Mediation of Gender Identities in Viking and Medieval Iceland’, in M. Eriksen, U. Pedersen, B. Rundbergt, I. Axelsen and H. Berg (eds.) Viking Worlds: Things, Spaces and Movement (Oxford, 2015), pp. 102–23, 113–4. See M. Muller, ‘Peasant Women, Agency and Status in Mid-Thirteenth- to Late Fourteenth-Century England: Some Reconsiderations’, in C. Beattie and M.F. Stevens (eds.) Married Women and the Law in Premodern Northwest Europe (Woodbridge, 2013), pp. 91–114, 100–1 for similarities with scholarship concerning women in medieval England and historians’ cultural assumptions.
26. J. Jochens, Women in Old Norse Society (London, 1995), p. 120. Jochens uses a modern comparison, but there is thought to be a long continuity in Icelandic farming practices that might seem odd to those more familiar with farming practices from other regions; K. Hastrup, ‘Male and Female in Icelandic Culture: A Preliminary Sketch’, in K. Hastrup (ed.) Island of Anthropology: Studies in Past and Present Iceland (Odense, 1990), pp. 269–82. The author disagrees with many of Hastrup’s conclusions, in particular Hastrup’s conclusions from her experiences at just one farm. The author has undertaken work on several farms around Iceland including the autumn sheep round-up, alas thirty years after Hastrup, and has never experienced or seen such segregation of tasks. Hastrup may have been classed as a youngster due to inexperience, not because she was female. Stamina, more than strength, is needed as the round-up lasts all day over several weekends with sheep sorting, shearing and selecting for slaughter in the days between. The sheep round-up is a time when all are needed to form a line with the smallest possible gaps between the people, otherwise sheep will not be spotted and escape the search. To exclude half of the potential participants would mean larger gaps in the line and increase the chances of missing sheep during the search, which is not a wise decision when the aim is to collect all the sheep. The debate about women’s ability to undertake physical tasks has also been used as an explanation for wage differences in medieval England, see J. Hatcher, ‘Women’s Work Reconsidered: Gender and Wage Differentiation in Late Medieval England’, Past and Present 173 (2001), pp. 191–8, 193–4, and S. Bardsley, ‘Reply to Women’s Work Reconsidered: Gender and Wage Differentiation in Late Medieval England’, Past and Present 173 (2001), pp. 199–202.
27. Auður Magnúsdóttir, ‘Kvinnor I sagorna’, in N.L. Coleman and N. Løkka (eds.) Kvinner i vikingtid (Oslo, 2014), pp. 59–87, 69. In other European regions, it was not unknown for women to undertake ploughing, M. Muller, ‘Peasant Women, Agency and Status in Mid-Thirteenth- to Late Fourteenth-Century England: Some Reconsiderations’, in C. Beattie and M.F. Stevens (eds.) Married Women and the Law in Premodern Northwest Europe (Woodbridge, 2013), pp. 91–114, 100; Odo of Cluny, The Life of Gerald of Aurillac (trans.) G. Sitwell (London, 1958), pp. 114–5 illustrated a Christian attitude to women and heavy physical labour, but also shows women did undertake such work. See Anna Sigurðadóttir, Vinna kvenna á Íslandi í 1100 ár (Reykjavík, 1985), p. 124 for details about the various tasks undertaken by women, including turf-cutting. On a daily basis, women and girls were expected to carry water to the farmstead, and though streams and rivers were usually located close by, it would still have taken strength and diligence (Þorstein saga uxaföts, chapter 10, SofI IV, p. 349, ÍF XIII, pp. 350–60; Jarteinabók Þorláks byskups 1199, chapters 22–3, Byskupa sögur III, pp. 471–8; Guðmundar saga Arasonar, chapters 83–4, Byskupa sögur I, pp. 180–1; Anna Sigurðadóttir, Vinna kvenna á Íslandi í 1100 ár (Reykjavík, 1985), pp. 132–3.
28. Fishing is assumed to be a male-only occupation, but it was conceivable for slave-women to go fishing (Gísla saga súrssonar, chapter 26, SofI II, p. 32, ÍF VI, p. 83). Women could fish year after year too when the need arose (Hávarðar saga Ísfirðings, chapters 5, 7–8, SofI V, pp. 321, 325, ÍF VI, pp. 308, 315).
29. For a discussion of gender as a spectrum between weak and strong, power and powerless, see C. Clover, ‘Regardless of Sex: Men, Women, and Power in Early Northern Europe’, Speculum 68(2) (1993), pp. 363–87.
30. P. Kupiec and K. Milek, ‘Roles and Perceptions of Shielings and the Mediation of Gender Identities in Viking and Medieval Iceland’, in M. Eriksen, U. Pedersen, B. Rundbergt, I. Axelsen and H. Berg (eds.) Viking Worlds: Things, Spaces and Movement (Oxford, 2015), pp. 102–23, 117–8. Shielings were off-farm bases used for various tasks, including grazing for milk livestock, wood-cutting and other resource gathering.
31. J. Jochens, Women in Old Norse Society (London, 1995), p. 100.
32. S. Shahar, Childhood in the Middle Ages (London, 1990), pp. 98, 242.
33. S. Shahar, Childhood in the Middle Ages (London, 1990), pp. 246–7.
34. J. Helgren and C.A. Vasconcellos, ‘Introduction’, in J. Helgren and C.A. Vasconcellos (eds.) Girlhood: A Global History (London, 2010), pp. 1–13, 3.
35. Agnes S. Arnórsdóttir, ‘Nokkrar hugleiðingar um kynbundið uppeldi á miðöldum’, in Ármann Jakobsson and Torfi H. Tulinius (eds.) Miðaldabörn (Reykjavík, 2005), pp. 101–12, 108.
36. For an example of recent scholarship, see S. Lewis-Simpson (ed.), Youth and Age in the Medieval North (Leiden, 2008) and Ármann Jakobsson and Torfi H. Tulinius (eds.), Miðaldabörn (Reykjavík, 2005).
37. Anna Sigurðadóttir, Vinna kvenna á Íslandi í 1100 ár (Reykjavík, 1985).
38. This point has been raised elsewhere for research of children but is also a valid point concerning women in medieval Iceland. A. Classen, Childhood in the Middle Ages and the Renaissance: The Results of a Paradigm Shift in the History of Mentality (Berlin, 2005), p. 21.
39. J. Jochens, Women in Old Norse Society (London, 1995), pp. 100–1, 117, 121.
40. J. Jesch, Women in the Viking Age (Woodbridge, 1991), pp. 83, 182.
41. Ljósvetninga saga, chapter 14, SofI IV, pp. 216, 217, chapter 6(14), ÍF X, pp. 24, 28–9; Fljótsdæla saga, chapter 1, SofI IV, pp. 378–80. ÍF XI, p. 215.
42. J. Jochens, Women in Old Norse Society (London, 1995), p. 117.
43. The word for property, fé, can also mean livestock.
44. Grágás (2000), K.152, p. 66, ‘It is not required of a wife that she should own a share in the household, but if she has a share in the household with him, then she is to run the indoor household if she wishes and the dairying’; Grágás (1852 II), K.152, p. 44, ‘Eigi er kono scyllt at eiga ibue nema hon vile, en ef hon á ibue með honom þá a hon at raða. bu ráðom fyrir inan stocc ef hon vill oc smala nyt.’ http://onpweb.nfi.sc.ku.dk/wordlist_e.html, see hjóna; samfarar hjóna refers to a married couple, whereas hjóna can refer to a married couple or a household.
45. Grágás (2000), K.152, p. 66; Grágás (1852 II), K.152, p. 44.
46. Laxdæla saga, chapter 55, SofI V, pp. 85–6, ÍF V, p. 166.
47. Grágás (1980), K.78, p. 126, (1852 I), K.78, p. 129.
48. Scholarship on medieval Icelandic society often cites the section in Grágás that permits couples to marry if they had the means to establish an independent household. The statement, however is not quite correct as there was a minimum property requirement only if the woman was of childbearing age. Taken along with other sections of Grágás, a married couple could be servants in others’ households, and so property ownership, not land ownership, was a prerequisite to marriage. The explicit property requirement for marriage is not found in the later Jónsbók, thought the text does require anyone wishing to establish their own household to own a minimum amount of property. The restriction was later removed by a 1294 amendment, Jónsbók (1970), VIII, 27, p. 234 and réttarbót 1294, no. 14, p. 283. Jónsbók (2010) does not include the VIII, 27 clause but does include the amendment, p. 401. For one of the most detailed discussion I have seen on this matter see G. Gunnarsson, Fertility and Nuptiality in Iceland’s Demographic History(Lund, 1980), pp. 12–23, and to a lesser extent A. Arnórsdóttir, Property and Virginity: The Christianization of Marriage in Medieval Iceland 1200-1600 (Aarhus, 2010), p. 106.
49. Grágás (1980), K.78, p. 126, (1852 I), K.78, p. 129.
50. J. Jochens, Women in Old Norse Society (London, 1995), p. 121.
51. Grágás (1980), K.78, p. 126, (1852 II), K.78, p. 129.
52. Grágás (1980), K.78, p. 126, (1852 II), K.78, p. 130.
53. Jónsbók, VIII, 25, pp. 326–9.
54. Búalög um verðlag og allskonuar venjur í viðskiptum og búskap á Íslandi (Reykjavík, 1915), p. 9, l.287–99; p. 19, l.196–201; pp. 31–2, l.11–31; p. 55, l.322–44; p. 70, l.250–73 (hereafter referred to as Búalög); Helgi Þorláksson, ‘Arbeidskvinnens, särlig veverskens, ökonomiske stilling på Island i middelalderen’, in H. Gunneng and B. Strand (eds.) Kvinnans ekonomiska ställning under nordisk medeltid: Uppsatser framlagda vid ett kvinnohistoriskt symposium i Kungälv 8-12 oktober 1979 (Gothenburg, 1981), pp. 50–65, 54.
55. Búalög, p. 21, l.261–76; p. 34, l.101–9; p. 61, l.529–38; p. 74, l.409–13; p. 80, l.61–82; p. 95, l.98–103.
56. Milking and the processing of milk takes time, and specialist knowledge, thus it is not surprising if some household women spend many hours involved in these tasks.
57. The duration of milking varied depending on the amount of milk produced and the ease of milking. Milking this number of animals therefore would take at least several hours.
Búalög, pp. 22, 34, 61, 74–5, 80, 96, 132, 154, 162, 178, 191, 218. Most of the manuscripts record 12 cows and 80 ewes, however, some of the seventeenth-century manuscripts state as many as twenty cows and ninety ewes or fifteen cows and hundred ewes.
p. 22 (IIA): Prjar konur skulu vera I seli þar sem er attatúi ásauðar að mjalta og xii kýr með matselju og skulo vera ii við veturhús um midðja dagai til heimavinnu. ‘There shall be three women at the shieling for milking, where there are 80 ewes and 12 cows, as well as a housekeeper, and there shall be two at the main farmhouse during midday for the housework.’
58. Búalög, p. 20, l.236–9.
59. Búalög, p. 21, l.244–5; J. Jochens, Women in Old Norse Society (London, 1995), p. 121.
60. Búalög, p. 25, l.50; p. 25, l.83.
61. Heiðarvíga saga, chapter 12, SofI IV, p. 89, ÍF III, pp. 247–8.
62. Búalög, p. 22, l.286–93; p. 34, l.115–20; pp. 74–5, l.417–24; Helgi Þorláksson, ‘Arbeidskvinnens, särlig veverskens, ökonomiske stilling på Island i middelalderen’, in H. Gunneng and B. Strand (eds.) Kvinnans ekonomiska ställning under nordisk medeltid: Uppsatser framlagda vid ett kvinnohistoriskt symposium i Kungälv 8-12 oktober 1979 (Gothenberg, 1981), pp. 50–65, 55–8. Food was measured in askar pl. (http://onpweb.nfi.sc.ku.dk/wordlist_e.html, see askr), a wooden, lidded bowl, and men traditionally had bigger bowls than women and children, so the pay gap was even bigger (Búalög, p. 75, l.414–9, 420).
63. The sagas reveal a difference in assigned wages between adult males and young males too, see ‘Shepherding’ below.
64. Laxdæla saga, chapters 34–5, SofI V, pp. 47–8, ÍF V, pp. 94–5. For further discussions of women and gender, see Jóhanna K. Friðriksdóttir, ‘Gender’, in Ármann Jakobsson and Sverrir Jakobsson (eds.) The Routledge Research Companion to the Medieval Icelandic Sagas (Abingdon, 2017), pp. 226–39; S.M. Anderson and K. Swenson (eds.), Cold Counsel: Women in Old Norse Literature and Mythology (London, 2002); Agnes S. Arnórsdóttir, Konur og vígamenn: staða kynjanna á Íslandi á 12. og 13. öld (Reykjavík, 1995); J. Jochens, Women in Old Norse Society (London, 1995).
65. Bjarnar saga hítdælakappa, chapter 12, SofI I, p. 269, ÍF III, pp. 139–40.
66. Harðar saga, chapter 22, SofI II, pp. 218–9, ÍF XIII, p. 60.
67. By going to the byre, all three avoided the landslide that was to kill the rest of the household.
68. Fljótsdæla saga, chapter 1, SofI IV, pp. 378–80, ÍF XI, p. 215.
69. Fljótsdæla saga, chapter 1, SofI IV, p. 380, ÍF XI, p. 215. ‘Þuriðr var hin virasta kona ok skörungr mikill.’
70. Íslendingasögur also depict women across the social spectrum as helpless and vulnerable to violence. Examples can been see when a prominent woman and her servant-women whilst at their shielings were physically assaulted, and in another saga, it is even implied that a servant-woman at a main farm was also assaulted. Occasionally, the sagas record when a household is under threat of attack, preventative measures were taken to protect women from unwanted advancements by locking the house doors after the men had left in the morning. Hallfreðar saga, chapter 9, SofI I, p. 244, ÍF XIII, pp. 180–1; Grettis saga, chapter 75, SofI II, pp. 165–6, ÍF VII, pp. 239–41; Víglundur saga, chapter 8, SofI II, p. 419, ÍF XIV, pp. 77–8.
71. Landnámabók, chapter 95, 97, 100, 110, Book of Settlement (trans.) H. Pálsson and P. Edwards (Manitoba, 1972), pp. 50–1, 51–2, 52–3, 55, ÍF I, pp. 136, 138–40, 141, 146–7; Laxdæla saga, chapters 4–6, SofI V, pp. 3–5, ÍF V, pp. 6–11. For more about the significance of Auðr, see C. Callow, ‘Putting Women in Their Place? Gender, Landscape, and the Construction of Landnámabók’, Viking and Medieval Scandinavia 7 (2011), pp. 7–28, 9.
72. Njáls saga, chapter 36, SofI III, p. 43, ÍF XII, p. 96. “Ek em kona Njáls… ræð ek ekki síðr hjón en hann”. There are several layers of meaning in this exchange, including questioning Njáll’s control of his household, see W.I. Miller, ‘Why is Your Axe Bloody?’: A Reading of Njáls Saga (Oxford, 2014), for a closer reading of the text, especially pp. 89–90.
73. Íslendinga saga, chapter 141, Sturlunga saga I (English), p. 346, Sturlunga saga I (Icelandic), pp. 440–1.
74. Svarfdæala saga, chapter 11, SofI IV, p. 162, chapter 12, ÍF IX, p. 153.
75. Again, we are only informed when the details are necessary to the saga context.
76. Hrafnkels saga Freygóða, chapter 3, SofI V, p. 263, ÍF XI, p. 110. See below.
77. Hrafnkels saga Freysgoða, chapter 3, SofI V, p. 263, ÍF XI, p. 100; Vatnsdæla saga, ÍF VIII, chapter 34, p. 90; Bjarnar saga Hítdælakappa, chapter 10, SofI I, p. 268, ÍF III, p. 136; Sturlu saga, chapter 12, Sturlunga saga I (English), p. 75, Sturlunga saga I (Icelandic), p. 78; Íslendinga saga, chapters 75, 132 Sturlunga saga I (English), pp. 233, 324, Sturlunga saga I (Icelandic), pp. 334, 419; Landnámabók, chapter 202, Book of Settlement (trans.) H. Pálsson and P. Edwards (Manitoba, 1972), p. 91, ÍF I, p. 235.
78. Fljótsdæla saga, chapter 10, SofI IV, p. 393, ÍF XI, pp. 237–8.
79. Heiðarvíga saga, chapter 22, SofI IV, p. 105, ÍF III, p. 278.
80. See P. Sørensen, The Unruly Man: Concepts of Sexual Defamation in Early Northern Society (trans.) J. Turville-Petre (Odense, 1983), especially pp. 14–44.
81. See for example, the accusation of eating mare-meat: Njáls saga, chapter 120, SofI III, p. 144, ÍF XII, p. 305; Íslendinga saga, chapter 33, Sturlunga saga I (English), p. 156, Sturlunga Saga I (Icelandic), p. 263, and insults of being penetrated by a stallion as if a mare: Ölkofra þáttr, chapter 3, SoI vol V, p. 236, IF XI, pp. 91–2.
82. Svarfdæla saga, chapter 7, SofI IV, p. 158, ÍF IX, p. 144; Ölkofra þáttr, chapter 3, SoI V, p. 236, ÍF XI, pp. 91–2; Íslendinga saga, chapter 33, Sturlunga saga I (English), p. 156, Sturlunga Saga I (Icelandic), p. 263; Guðmundar saga dýra, chapter 13, Sturlunga saga I (English), p. 178, Sturlunga Saga II (Icelandic), p. 187; Fljótsdæla saga, chapter 17, SofI IV p. 411, ÍF XI, p. 265.
83. Bjarnar saga hítdælakappa, chapter 16, SofI I, p. 276, ÍF III, pp. 152–4.
84. C. Clover, ‘Regardless of Sex: Men, Women, and Power in Early Northern Europe’, Speculum 68(2) (1993), pp. 363–87, 380–1.
85. Njáls saga, chapter 120, SofI III, p. 144, ÍF XII, p. 305.
86. For a discussion of these insults see W. Miller, ‘Why is Your Axe Bloody?‘: A Reading of Njáls Saga (Oxford, 2014), pp. 104–5, 210–1, and for a wider context see P. Sørensen, The Unmanly Man: Concepts of Sexual Defamation in Early Northern Society (trans.) J. Turville-Petre (Odense, 1983), pp. 20–1, 25.
87. Hrafnkels saga, chapter 11, SofI V, p. 275, chapter 5, ÍF XI, p. 122.
88. Eyrbyggja saga, chapter 63, SofI V, p. 212, ÍF IV, p. 171.
89. Laxdæla saga, chapter 24, SofI V, pp. 34–5, ÍF V, pp. 68–9.
90. Bandamanna saga, chapter 12, SofI V, p. 307, ÍF VII, p. 362.
91. Hænsa-Þóris saga, chapter 15, SofI V, p. 256, ÍF III, p. 40.
92. Þorvalds þáttr viðförla, chapter 8, SofI V, p. 366, ÍF XV, p. 84.
93. For example, Ármann Jakobsson and Torfi H. Tulinius (eds.), Miðaldabörn (Reykjavík, 2005). There have been discussions about the examples to follow, but they are more concerned with the transition from childhood to adulthood, or children as social or political actors, not with what these examples tell us about a farm’s labour force. A notable exception is C. Larrington, ‘Awkward Adolescents: Male Maturation in Norse Literature’, in S. Lewis-Simpson (ed.) Youth and Age in the Medieval North (Leiden, 2008), pp. 151–66.
94. Grettis saga, chapter 14, SofI II, pp. 64–6, ÍF VII, p. 37.
95. For a discussion of childhood ages see C. Callow, ‘Transitions to Adulthood in Early Icelandic Society’, in S. Crawford and G. Shepherd (eds.) Children, Childhood and Society (Oxford, 2007), pp. 45–56.
96. Grettis saga, chapter 14, SofI II, pp. 64–6, ÍFVII, pp. 39–41. The mention of clothing shows that Grettir was under-prepared for the task, and thereby the saga acknowledges that children were more sensitive than adults to the elements. Later, Grettir gains a reputation for being insensitive to the cold showing his development from a child to almost beyond human endurance.
97. Grettis saga, chapter 69, SofI II, p. 158, ÍF VII, pp. 224–5.
98. Fljótsdæla saga, chapter 19, SofI IV, pp. 417–8, 420, ÍF XI, pp. 274, 277.
99. Fljótsdæla saga, chapter 19, SofI IV, p. 420, ÍF XI, p. 277.
100. Heiðarvíga saga, chapter 9, SofI IV, p. 79, ÍF III, p. 232, ‘lítill at vexti ok frár á fæti’
101. Hávarðar saga Ísafirðings, chapter 14, SofI V, pp. 336–7, ÍF VI, pp. 336–9.
102. Fóstbræðra saga, chapter 8, Sof I II, pp. 345–6, ÍF VI, pp. 153–5.
103. Unlike other regions of Europe, there were no natural predators for livestock in Iceland, and so only young lambs were vulnerable to attack by arctic foxes and ravens. Therefore, the shepherds’ job was to drive livestock to grazing and water.
104. Guðmundar saga dýra, chapter 11, Sturlunga saga II (English), p. 172, Sturlunga Saga II (Icelandic), p. 182.
105. Þórðar saga hreðu, chapter 5, SofI III, p. 375, ÍF XIV, p. 189; Laxdæla saga, chapters 55 and 63, SofI V, pp. 85–6, 96, ÍF V, pp. 166, 186.
106. Heiðarvíga saga, chapter 12; Laxdæla saga, chapter 49, SofI, p. 78, ÍF V, p. 151; Landnámabók, chapter 180, Book of Settlement (trans.) H. Pálsson and P. Edwards (Manitoba, 1972), p. 78, ÍF I, pp. 151–2.
107. Harðar saga, chapter 29, SofI II, p. 225, ÍF XIII, p. 74; Íslendinga saga, chapter 138, Sturlunga saga I (English), p. 336, Sturlunga saga I (Icelandic), p. 430.
108. Íslendinga saga, chapter 141, Sturlunga saga I (English), p. 346, Sturlunga saga I (Icelandic), pp. 440–1.
109. Gunnar Karlsson, ‘Barnfóstur á Íslandi að fornu’, in Ármann Jakobsson and Torfi H. Tulinius (eds.) Miðaldabörn (Reykjavík, 2005), pp. 37–62; C. Callow. ‘Transitions to Adulthood in Early Icelandic Society’, in S. Crawford and G. Shepherd (eds.) Children, Childhood and Society (Oxford, 2007), pp. 45–56, 47.
110. Hrafnkels saga Freygóða, chapter 4, SofI V, p. 263, ÍF XI, p. 101.
111. See Fljótsdæla saga, chapter 11, SofI IV, p. 396, ÍF XI, p. 241 for an example of hierarchy within a farm’s staff, as a cattle herder tells a freed slave to be quiet.
112. Agnes S. Arnórsdóttir, ‘Nokkrar hugleiðingar um kynbundið uppeldi á miðöldum’, in Ármann Jakobsson and Torfi H. Tulinius (eds.), Miðaldabörn (Reykjavík, 2005), pp. 101–12, 106, 108.
113. Agnes S. Arnórsdóttir, ‘Nokkrar hugleiðingar um kynbundið uppeldi á miðöldum’, in Ármann Jakobsson and Torfi H. Tulinius (eds.) Miðaldabörn (Reykjavík, 2005), pp. 101–12, 108 argues that girls are described as ‘promising’ in sagas in respect to marriage partners and that it is difficult to find evidence about girls’ upbringing. Women probably had a role in educating the young within households. For a discussion of women as educators in medieval England, see N. Orme, Medieval Schools: From Rome Britain to Renaissance England (New Haven, CT, 2006), p. 61. For an Icelandic example, see amongst others, Þorláks saga byskups, chapter 3, The Saga of Bishop Thorlak (trans.) Ármann Jakobsson and D. Clark (London, 2013), p. 3, ÍF XVI, pp. 50–1. Some females, however, were exceptional as they obtained a more formal education at religious houses in Iceland, and they in turn educated others. For evidence of female education, we need to look elsewhere than the sagas and laws, to church-charters. R. Patzuk-Russell, ‘The Development of Education and Grammatica in Medieval Iceland’ (Unpublished PhD thesis, University of Birmingham, 2017), p. 257 (example 6), 257–8 (example 9), 260 (example 23), 66 (footnote 214); Jóns saga Hólabyskups ens Helga, P. Foote (ed.), Editiones Arnamagnæanæ Series A (14) (Copenhagen, 2003), p. 88.
114. Vopnfirðinga saga, chapter 2, SofI, p. 314, ÍF XI, p. 24.
115. Grágás (1980), chapter 157; C. Callow. ‘Transitions to Adulthood in Early Icelandic Society’, in S. Crawford and G. Shepherd (eds.) Children, Childhood and Society (Oxford, 2007), pp. 45–56, 49–50.
116. Laxdæla saga, chapter 76, SofI V, p. 117, ÍF V, p. 223.
117. Hrafnkels saga, chapters 1–2, SofI V, pp. 261–2, íF XI, pp. 97–8. Hrafnkell is said to have been fifteen-years-old when he came to Iceland, and the saga seems to suggest that he established his farmstead the following summer.
118. Flóamanna saga, chapter 6, SofI III, p. 275, ÍF XIII, p. 242.
119. Grágás (1980), K.91, p. 155, (1852 I), K.91, p. 166.
120. Grágás (1980), K.78, p. 126, (1852 I), K.78, p. 129.
121. Finnboga saga, chapter 7, SofI III, p. 227, ÍF XIV, pp. 263–4.
122. Finnboga saga, chapter 7, SofI III, p. 227, ÍF XIV, pp. 263–4.
123. C. Larrington, ‘Awkward Adolescents: Male Maturation in Norse Literature’, in S. Lewis-Simpson (ed.) Youth and Age in the Medieval North (Leiden, 2008), pp. 151–66, 157–61.
124. Orms þáttur Stórolfssonar, chapters 1–2, pp. 455–6, ÍF XIII pp. 399–400.
125. Þorsteins saga hvita, chapter 8, SofI IV, p. 310, ÍF XI, p. 19; Vopnfirðinga saga, chapter 1, SofI IV, p. 314, ÍF XI, p. 24.
126. Hávarðar saga Ísafirðings, chapter 14, SofI V, pp. 336–7, ÍF VI, pp. 336–9.