We need not travel far to find examples of their barbarism. Their cruelty in warfare is a commonplace among the historians of the period. When the Irish found the Danes cooking their food on spits stuck in the bodies of their fallen foes (v. supra, p. [55]) and asked why they did anything so hateful, the answer came 'Why not? If the other side had been victorious they would have done the same with us.' The custom of cutting the blood-eagle (i.e. cutting the ribs in the shape of an eagle and pulling the lungs through the opening) was a well-known form of vengeance taken on the slayer of one's father if captured in battle, and is illustrated in the story of the sons of Ragnarr Loðbrók himself. Another survival of primitive life was the famous Berserk fury, when men in the heat of battle were seized with sudden madness and, according to the popular belief, received a double portion of strength, and lost all sense of bodily pain, a custom for which Dr Bugge finds an apt parallel in the 'running amok' of the races of the Malay peninsula. Children were tossed on the point of the spear and the Viking leader who discouraged the custom was nicknamed barnakarl, i.e. children's friend.
In contrast to these methods of warfare stands their skill in fortification, in which they taught many lessons both to their English and to their Frankish adversaries, their readiness in adapting themselves to new conditions of warfare (v. supra, p. [46]), and their clever strategy, whereby they again and again outwitted their opponents.
The same contrast meets us when we consider the position of women among them. The chroniclers make many references to their lust after women. We hear in an English chronicler how they combed their hair, indulged in sabbath baths, often changed their clothes and in various ways cultivated bodily beauty 'in order that they might the more readily overcome the chastity of the matrons, and make concubines even of the daughters of the nobility.' Wandering from country to country they often had wives in each, and polygamy would seem to have been the rule, at least among the leaders. In Ireland we hear of what seem to have been veritable harems, while in Russia we are told of the great grandson of Rurik, the founder of the Russian kingdom, that he had more than 800 concubines, though we may perhaps suspect the influence of Oriental custom in this case. Yet, side by side with all this, the legitimate wife was esteemed and honoured, and attained a position and took a part in national life which was quite unusual in those days. In the account of an Arabic embassy to the Vikings of the west (v. supra, p. [20]) we have a vivid picture of the freedom of their married life. Auðr, the widow of Olaf the White, after the fall of her son Thorstein, took charge of the fortunes of her family and is one of the figures that stand out most clearly in the early settlement of Iceland. We have only to turn to the Icelandic sagas to see before us a whole gallery of portraits, dark and fair alike, of women cast in heroic mould, while the stone at Dyrna in Hadeland, bearing the runic inscription, 'Gunvor, daughter of Thirek, built a bridge to commemorate her daughter Astrid, she was the most gracious maiden in Hadeland,' gives us one of the most attractive pictures of womanhood left to us from the Viking age. It must be added however that beside the runic inscription, the stone bears carvings of the Christ-child, the star in the east and the three kings, and this may serve to remind us that the age was one in which the peoples of the North passed from heathenism to Christianity, though the passage was a slow one and by no means complete even at the close of the period.
It is probable that the first real knowledge of 'the white Christ' came, as is so often the case, with the extension of trade—Frisians trading with Scandinavia, and Danes and Swedes settling in Frisia and elsewhere for the same purpose. St Willibrord at the beginning of the 8th century and Archbishop Ebbo of Rheims in 823, as papal legate among the northern peoples, undertook missions to Denmark, but it was in 826, when king Harold was baptised at Mainz, that the first real opportunity came for the preaching of Christianity in Denmark. Harold was accompanied on his return by St Anskar, a monk from Corvey and a man filled with religious zeal. After two years' mission in Denmark St Anskar sailed to Sweden, where he was graciously received at Björkö by king Björn. He made many converts and on his return home in 831 was made archbishop of Hamburg and given, jointly with Ebbo, jurisdiction over the whole of the northern realms. Hamburg was devastated in 845 and St Anskar was then appointed to the bishopric of Bremen, afterwards united to a restored archbishopric of Hamburg. He laboured in Denmark once more and established churches at Slesvík and Ribe. He conducted a second mission to Sweden and his missionary zeal remained unabated until his death in 865; his work was carried on by his successor and biographer St Rimbert and by many others. Their preaching was however confined to Jutland and South Sweden and there is no evidence of any popular movement towards Christianity. Gorm the Old was a steadfast pagan but Gorm's son Harold Bluetooth was a zealous promoter of Christianity. His enthusiasm may have been exaggerated by monastic chroniclers in contrast to the heathenism of his son Svein, but with the accession of Cnut all fears of a reversion to heathendom were at an end. Cnut was a devout son of the Church.
The first Danish settlers in England were entirely heathen in sentiment, but they were soon brought into close contact with Christianity, and the terms of the peace of Edward and Guthrum in the early years of the 10th century show that already Christianity was making its way in the Danelagh. In the course of this century both archbishoprics were held by men of Danish descent and the excesses of the early 11th century were due, not to the Danish settlers, but to the heathen followers of Olaf Tryggvason and Svein Forkbeard. Similarly the Danish settlers in Normandy were within a few years numbered among the Church's most enthusiastic supporters, and Rollo's own son and successor William was anxious to become a monk.
The story of the preaching of Christianity in Norway is a chequered one. The first attempt to establish the Christian faith was made by Hákon Aðalsteinsfóstri (v. supra, p. [36]). Baptised and educated in England, he began warily, inducing those who were best beloved by him to become Christians, but he soon came into conflict with the more ardent followers of paganism. At the great autumn festival at Lade when the cups of memory were drunk, Earl Sigurd signed a cup to Odin, but the king made the sign of the cross over his cup. Earl Sigurd pacified popular clamour by saying that the king had made the sign of the hammer and consecrated the cup to Thor. The next day the king would not eat the horse-flesh used in their offerings nor drink the blood from it: the people were angry and the king compromised by inhaling the steam from the offering through a linen cloth placed over the sacrificial kettle, but no one was satisfied and at the next winter-feast the king had to eat some bits of horse-liver and to drink crossless all the cups of memory. Hákon died a Christian but Eyvindr Skaldaspillir in Hákonarmál describes how he was welcomed by Odin to Valhalla.
Earl Hákon Sigurdson, nicknamed blót-jarl, i.e. sacrifice-earl, was a zealous heathen, but Olaf Tryggvason after his succession in 995 promoted the cause of Christianity by every means in his power, and it was largely to this that he owed his ultimate overthrow. Then, after a brief interval, the crown passed to St Olaf, greatest of all Christian champions in Norway, and during his reign that country became definitely Christian, though his rough and ready methods of conversion were hardly likely to secure anything but a purely formal and outward adhesion to the new faith.
Sweden was the most reluctant of the three northern realms to accept Christianity, and the country remained almost entirely heathen until the close of the Viking period.
The story of the Norse settlers in Ireland and the Western Islands in their relation to Christianity was very much that of the Danes in England. Celtic Christianity had a firm hold in these countries, and from the earliest period of the settlements many of the Vikings adopted the Christian faith. Among the settlers in Iceland who came from the West were many Christians, and Auðr herself gave orders at her death that she should be buried on the sea-shore below the tide-mark, rather than lie in unhallowed ground. Most of the settlers undoubtedly remained heathen—in 996 a ring sacred to Thor was taken from a temple in Dublin and in 1000 king Brian destroyed a grove sacred to the same god just north of the city. But side by side with incidents of this kind must be placed others like that of the sparing of the churches, hospitals and almshouses when Armagh was sacked in 921, or the retirement of Anlaf Cuaran to the monastery at Iona in 981. In Ireland as elsewhere there seems to have been a recrudescence of heathenism in the early years of the 11th century and the great fight at Clontarf was regarded as a struggle between pagan and Christian.
Outwardly the Scandinavian world had largely declared its adhesion to Christianity by the close of the Viking period, but we must remember that the medieval Church was satisfied if her converts passed through the ceremony of baptism and observed her rites, though their sentiments often remained heathen. Except in purely formal fashion it is impossible to draw a definite line of demarcation between Christian and heathen, and the acceptance of Christianity is of importance not so much from any change of outlook which it produced in individuals, as because it brought the peoples of the North into closer touch with the general life and culture of medieval Europe. Leaders freely accepted baptism—often more than once—and even confirmation as part of a diplomatic bargain, while their profession of Christianity made no difference to their Viking way of life. Even on formal lines the Church had to admit of compromise, as for example in the practice of prime-signing, whereby when Vikings visited Christian lands as traders, or entered the service of Christian kings for payment, they often allowed themselves to be signed with the cross, which secured their admission to intercourse with Christian communities, but left them free to hold the faith which pleased them best.