Shield-Maidens: Fact or Fiction?

In the HTTYD franchise, female characters Astrid Hofferson, Ruffnut Thorston, and Heather from the TV series are all very reminiscent of the Viking shield-maidens of legend. Each character is a formidable warrior within her own right and is able to demonstrate more military prowess than much of the male cast. Astrid’s combat skills in particular surpass that of almost all the other characters in the movies/TV series. Compared to the inventive yet physically weak Hiccup, nerdy gamer Fishlegs, dimwitted Snotlout, and exasperating Tuffnut, the girls are presented as the backbone of the group and as some of their best riders. The use of the shield-maiden in fiction is common and the legend is well-known. However, the question of whether or not these warrior women did, in fact, live and fight in the Middle Ages is still contested by historians.

Astrid threatening Hiccup with her axe after he screws up during dragon training.

While some Viking sagas tell tales of women who could wield a weapon, such as Brynhildr Buðladóttir, Freydís Eiríksdóttir (Leif Erikson’s sister), and Lagertha (the first wife of the legendary Ragnar Lodbrok), the reality of the existence of shield-maidens is much harder to ascertain. The majority of the sources that describe these warrior women are questionable as to their accuracy, as oftentimes they are written very long after the supposed events of the narrative and do not concern themselves with documenting accurate history as opposed to a fantastical account of events that elevates a person or family’s societal standing. The shield-maidens’ further connection with folkloric literature can be gathered from their likeness to the Valkyries, or the handmaidens of Odin who choose which fallen warriors to bring to Valhalla. Because of the difficulties in determining which parts of the sagas are historically accurate and which are falsified, it is hard to make a definite case for the existence or nonexistence of the shield-maiden.

A painting by Peter Nicolai Arbo depicting the death of shield-maiden Hervor in the Hervarar saga

While the usage of shield-maidens in modern literature and media may not be the most historically accurate in terms of events that occurred in the past, it does do justice to the concept of shield-maiden that appears in the literature of the Middle Ages. Astrid of HTTYD may not have been a woman of the Viking age in reality, but she bears a striking resemblance to Saxo Grammaticus’s Viking shield-maiden Lagertha and her courage and valor in battle. In this sense, the shield-maiden is an easily well-utilized aspect of medieval literature that is taken advantage of by the creators of today’s media.

This Beatrice vs. That Beatrice

I grew up in a household where gaming wasn’t allowed, so on weekends I would trek over to my cousin’s house, plop myself down in front of his big screen, and play. I never understood why it was that video games were considered such a bad influence, as I loved gaming and never saw an explicit negative effect. Now that I have seen the walk-through of Dante’s Inferno I am considering changing my stance.

“The Middle Ages form a space in which theory and narrative, gaming and textuality, identity and society are remediated and reimagined,”(10) says Kline. I believe that to be true; we’ve been offered ample evidence to show that contemporary society views the middle ages with a kind of “double vision”(Kline 4), using modern day articles (such as a bathrobe) to stand in for, or be interpreted as medieval (bathrobe becomes a wizard’s cape). This reimagining of medieval times is discussed in length by Chadwick in his discussion of masculinity in Dante’s Inferno, in “Courtly Violence, Digital Play.” But the real question comes from when you pair Kline’s ideas with Chadwick’s; if the game is making a statement on our society today using the venue of the Middle Ages, then what in the SAM HECK is going on with women?

Chadwick barely glances over the fact that Beatrice has been pulled from her lofty role in Dante’s Inferno  as the pilgrim’s heavenly guide and benefactor to a “feminine object”(Chadwick, 153). This, to me, is a way bigger statement on society than our wish to return to the simpler times of real men! According to Pugh and Weisl, Dante in Dante’s Inferno, is a “new identity of a mythic warrior stitched onto the naked space of his iconic status”(19). Let’s then take a look at the “new identity” of Beatrice’s “iconic status.”

First of all, her entire involvement in this whole affair revolves around Dante and his inability to keep it in his pants. She is no longer a protector, instead needs to be protected, and throughout the entirety of the game is under the control of, or within the possession of a male figure. Even when she passes out towards the end, she is taken away by a male angel, in whose arm she lies limply. Chadwick stressed the point that courtly love has to do with “inborn suffering”(155), doesn’t Beatrice suffer enough to be considered for the role of heroine? Obviously not.

Beatrice in Henry Holiday’s painting “Dante and Beatrice”

 

Beatrice in Dante’s Inferno

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Most other video games that I have played have not been about the dichotomy between masculinity and femininity. Instead they have been about the accumulation of power. Unfortunately in Dante’s Inferno and many other contemporary medieval sources we have viewed (including my final research topic, BBC’s The Black Adder), makes it distinct that the only people who can accumulate said power are men, and that this power is an inherent form of masculinity.

This is why I am choosing to reevaluate my views on video games in general, and participatory medievalism more specifically. Chadwick says that this game helps us evaluate “medieval masculinities and contemporary bodies”(157), but if it says anything about medieval femininities, all I can say is that I am glad I was born in the 20th Century.

Misplaced Accusations of Sexism, Missing Accusations of Stereotypes

Eaters of the Dead presents itself as the translation of the entirely factual journey of Ibn Fadlan, a 10th century Muslim traveler. Up until the “A Factual Note” that concludes the work, the reader is left unaware that the book is fiction. Michael Crichton’s entire goal when writing the work is to convince the reader of the truth of his work. Every detail is included for the sole purpose of persuading the reader to throw off their better judgement and believe his tale, which is why Crichton often takes artistic license and introduces anachronisms to his work. Crichton intends to use the reader’s knowledge, or lack thereof, of the Middle Ages, Vikings, and Islam, to make the tale believable.

A topic that was discussed at length during class was the treatment of women in the tale. Many called it “appalling” and in this, I agree. However, we must view this in context and from the perspective of a 10^th century Muslim traveler, as Crichton intends. Hailing from a more sexually “modest” region, Fadlan views the Vikings sexual openness to be disgusting. The constant mentions of this aren’t meant to arouse the reader as in modern works, but to use the reader’s stereotypes against them. Crichton hopes to reign in our disbelief of parts of the work, through Fadlan’s observations of the Viking’s sexual promiscuity. After battles that may stretch our suspension of disbelief, more base observations that play off of modern reader’s stereotypes of Muslim and Viking society bring the reader’s attention back to the supposed truthfulness of the tale.

Further, once a reader familiar with the tale of Beowulf identifies Eaters of the Dead as a similar story, major changes to the plot would destroy that suspension of disbelief. Strong female characters that enrich works of fiction by not senselessly dehumanizing half of mankind are a relatively modern concept. Such an egregious anachronism would be so completely out of place in a tale from the 10^th century that it would move the story from believable to unbelievable. Crichton again plays on modern stereotypes of Muslims- a reader might also view Muslims as sexist due to modern media, and extrapolate that stereotype a millennium back, thus viewing Fadlan’s general exclusion of females as a result of his own sexism, rather than the reader themself.

In actuality, Viking women had greater rights than in most other societies at the time, but Crichton disregards facts. He yet again uses stereotypes to portray the Vikings as more barbaric than they were, making the reader not doubt the also untruthful plot. In conclusion, the outrage over the lack of female characters is misplaced. The misrepresentation of Vikings and Crichton’s use of modern reader’s stereotypes towards Muslims are where the blame should lie instead.