The ancient Norse poem Krákumál is written as a monologue by the legendary viking king Ragnar Lothbrok. Told as Ragnar lies dying down in the Anglo-Saxon King Ælla’s snake-pit, he recounts heroic events from his life.
Neither the original poet, nor where it was first written is known today. However, it is preserved in several ancient manuscripts from the 13th and 17th century. They were themselves likely written copies of older manuscripts.
The common consensus is that the Krákumál was first written in the 12th century. This is based partly on events in the content, as well as some of the spelling which scholars can track due to slight changes over time.
Even more fascinating I think is the possible meaning of the name. Kráku could be translated as Crow, and then the name would be Tale of the Crow. This would maybe make sense to many today, since the nickname of Ragnars’s wife Åslaug was crow, or kraku. However, that nickname was not really known at the time when this poem was first written. There is a good chance the name meant something else then.
A Tale of Slaughter from the Hebrides
There are a few words in the poem which are spelled in a way common to the Norse settlements on the Scottish islands of the Hebrides around the 11th and 12th century. Before the time of the vikings arrival to the outer Scottish islands of the Orkneys and Hebrides, the islands were inhabited by the Celts.
In Celtic mythology, there is a war-goddess named Badb, associated with death, war and violence. Her symbol, or the animal seen as representing her was the crow. Just like ravens turning up at a battlefield were seen as Odin, the Celts saw crows as representing Badb. In this context, the name Krákumál can be understood as Tales of Slaughter. This is quite fitting since most of what Ragnar shares in Krákumál is either about past exploits, or the bloody revenge he expects his sons will visit upon king Ælla.
The Popularity of Ragnar Lothbrok
The Krákumál is far from the only ancient text about the legendary king Ragnar and his sons. There has been a lot of discussion about whether or not Ragnar was a real person, I believe it must be quite clear that he was. Preceding the Krákumál in two different manuscripts is the Saga of Ragnar Lothbrok. Then there is The Tale of Ragnar’s Sons which is another saga from the same ‘universe’ about Ragnar and his sons found in other manuscripts.
When you add to it that he is mentioned in several other sagas, and there is even a rune stone mentioning the sons of Lothbrok, it all points to him being a known person a long time ago.
Some of the mysticism surrounding him might be that so much is indeed shrouded in the fog of time. There are several legendary viking kings we know well through historical records. Like Harald Hardrada, king of Norway who at one point led the Varangian guard and later died in the Battle of Stamford Bridge. Eirik the Red is another viking warrior legend, father to Leif Erikson, famous for discovering America. However, they came at a slightly later stage, or their exploits were recorded for prosperity in a better way.
I believe we will never truly know just what is true and what is myth in the history of Ragnar Lothbrok. That is part of what makes it such a great tale I think. The Krákumál only adds to this.
Translating Krákumál
The below Lay of Kraka will eventually all be my own translation. However, I have just started and rather than wait until I am finished, I am publishing it as a mix of my own translation, and otherwise using an old public domain version of the poem.
If you ever read different translations of Old Norse poems or sagas you will find that there are slight differences. Typically the Old Norse originals are far fewer words and when translating them, you have to interpret the idea, or full meaning of a few words. While this style is prevalent in Old Norse, it might also point to an audience who would know more of the context by heart.
Having said that, I do try to stay true to both the meaning, and also follow the same structure as far as it’s feasible and somewhat natural. If you come across phrases or sentence structures that seem “off”, this is likely the explanation.
Krákumál – The Lay of Kraka
St. 1
We struck with our sword.
It was not long ago,
We to Götaland went
to slay the burrowingwolf*.
Then we married Thora;
ever after, among men,
having stabbed the heather-fish,
Lothbrok would be my name.
I stabbed the Earth-loop**,
with a shining steel blade.
*heiti for snake, **kenning for snake, both refering to the lindworm Ragnar fought.
St. 2
We struck with our sword.
I was rather young, when I carved
east in Eyrasundi*
lunch for the greedy wolves,
and yellow-footed bird**
there, were it sang,
riveted helmets struck
by hard iron, a great meal.
All the seas swelled,
raven waded in blood of the slain.
*Øresund, Sweden, **Golden Eagle
St. 3
We struck with our sword.
High we carried our spear,
when we were twenty years old
reddening the sword widely.
Killing eight earls,
east of the mouth of Dvina;
the greedy one* we fed plenty
of food in that battle.
Blood fell into the swelling
sea; taking troops’ lives.
*wolf
St. 4
We struck with our sword.
Hethinn’s woman* was near,
when we sent Hälsingland’s people
to the halls of Odin**.
Proceeding up the Ífa river;
swords succeeded in biting;
all was waves of wounds
the river turning a hot red.
Roaring swords on chain mail
and wound-herrings***, cleaving shields.
*kenning for a famous valkyrie of battle, **Valhalla, *** heiti for arrows
Older Translation of Krákumál Starts here:
5 We struck with our swords! None fled away
Before Herraud fell on his steed-of-the-sea;
No bolder jarl in the days to come
Will cleave the waves with his long war-ships:
Stout-hearted ever in battle was he.
6 We struck with our swords! Men cast down their shields
When by our arrows their breasts were rent;
Our swords bit hard by Skarpa-skerry,
And red were all shields ere Rafn fell:
On the byrnies ran sweat with hot gore blent.
7 We struck with our swords! High screamed the blades
Before King Eystein was felled in the fray;
The sword struck home on helmet and shield,
From our wounds sprang forth the warm wet blood;
Our foes were left for the birds of prey.
8 We struck with our swords! At Enderis Isles
The ravens received rich flesh to tear;
The steeds of the witches were battened full,
The arrows flew up with the rising sun,
The steel resounded on helmets there.
9 We struck with our swords! Before Bornholm
The ravens were pastured; our shields were red;
Rain beat on our armor, and shaft struck steel,
Vulnir fell in that fray—he was greatest of kings;
On the dead by the shore the wolves were fed.
10 We struck with our swords! The strife was far done
Before Frey fell on the Flemish plain;
The blue steel sword struck a mighty blow
On the gilded armor that Hogni wore;
Many maidens wept, but the wolves were fain.
11 We struck with our swords! In hundreds I saw
Where the ships of the foe by Angel-ness lay;
Six days we sailed to the fight ere they fell,
We raised our spears with the rising sun,
And Valthjof was slain by our swords in that fray.
12 We struck with our swords! By Bardfirth side
Blood dripped from our blades and the hawks were gorged;
The bow-strings sang when the arrows were sped,
The poisoned steel gave many a wound;
Loud beat the battle-axe Svelnir had forged.
13 We struck with our swords! In the game of war
We lifted our shields by Hedninga Bay;
There might men see how we sundered steel
And smote on their helms: it was other cheer
Than when in the arms of our brides we lay!
14 We struck with our swords! In Northumberland
Upon our shields fell a hard cold rain;
When morning had come there was no need
To urge our men to the bitter strife:
The earth was covered with those who were slain.
15 We struck with our swords! In the Southern Isles
To Herthjof our fight was lost;
There Rognvald fell when the battle was high—
That was bitterest blow to the men of his band—
In the combat many a dart was tossed.
16 We struck with our swords! The dead lay in heaps
And the wolves rejoiced in the battle-roar;
Marstein, who ruled the Irish realm
By Vederfjord gave them rich repast:
The ravens received their meed of war.
17 We struck with our swords! Many men I saw
Who fell in the morning by strife fordone:
My son dropped down with a blade in his heart,
My stout-hearted hero, by Egil slain:
Spears clashed on byrnies; the banners shone.
18 We struck with our swords! By warriors true
Good flesh was cut and to wolves was given:
On Vickskeid, where ships were reddened with blood,
There was no banquet with maids and wine:
In the battle many a war-sark was riven.
19 We struck with our swords! Against three kings
We fought at dawn by Lindisore;
Few were the men that there escaped;
They were rent asunder by hawks and wolves;
In the sea fell floods of Irish gore.
20 We struck with our swords! I saw fair lads,
The friends of women, give way, afraid:
It was little we had, when King Orn fell,
Of the cheer of the bath, by women prepared,
Or stealing a kiss from a youthful maid.
21 We struck with our swords! Brands bit on shields,
The gilded darts struck on the weeds of war;
For a long time hence men will see and know
How the princes gave battle by Anglesey—
The arrows were dyed by the banks of Ore.
22 We struck with our swords! Is a man more doomed
Though he’s left in the face of a storm of spears?
He who never has fought may bewail lost life;
It is ill to urge cowards to eager strife;
Little good from his heart has the man who fears.
23 We struck with our swords! It is meet and just
That man should face man where drawn swords sing:
No thane should flinch back from his fellow-thane,
The bold man ever has hardily fought,
And the lover of maids loves the battle-din.
24 We struck with our swords! It is wise to yield
To the word of the fates; none escape their decrees:
Yet I little thought Ella would be my bane
When I fed the hawks and pastured the wolves
And drove my ships through the Scottish seas.
25 We struck with our swords! I am glad to know
That in Odin’s hall the benches are laid:
We shall soon drink our ale from the deers’ horns there
(The bold man never shrinks back from death)
I shall not go in like a man afraid.
26 We struck with our swords! Now Aslaug’s sons
Would hasten to combat with steel-tipped darts
If they knew that I lay in this utter need
And that venomous worms were fierce at my flesh:
From their mother and me they have won stout hearts.
27 We struck with our swords! My life is near done,
The adder at my heart gives me bitter pains:
May the sharp sword likewise reach Ella’s breast,
For these tidings will rouse the wrath of my sons,
They will not sit still, my hardy swains.
28 We struck with our swords! Fifty times and one
In battle the ranks of the foe I flayed;
But little I thought that another king
Would overmaster me at the end;
The gods give me welcome; I die unafraid.
29 I am ready to go. Odin’s maids have come
To call me home to his hall on high:
With the gods I shall merrily drink my ale;
My days are done, and laughing I die.
