Beer, beef and politics

Vikings are stereotyped as raiders and traders, but those who settled in Iceland centuries ago spent more time producing and consuming booze and beef--in part to achieve political ambitions in a place very different from their Scandinavian homeland, says a Baylor archaeologist.

The seafaring warriors wanted to sustain the "big man" society of Scandinavia--a political economy in which chieftains hosted huge feasts of beer and beef served in great halls, says Dr. Davide Zori, assistant professor in the Baylor Interdisciplinary Core.

Zori and his team discovered what happened when the Vikings spent too long living too high on the hog--or, in this case, the bovine.

"It was somewhat like the barbecue here. You wanted a big steak on the grill," said Zori, a Denmark native and archeological field director in Iceland, who conducted National Science Foundation-funded research in archeology and medieval Viking literature. Zori co-edited the book Viking Archaeology in Iceland: Mosfell Archaelogical Project with Dr. Jesse Byock, professor of Old Norse and medieval Scandinavian studies at the University of California, Los Angeles.

"It made it really showy--if you could keep it up."

The Viking chieftains used such wealth and cultural displays to flex political muscle with equals or rivals--or to cement good relations with local laborers and supporters, Zori said.

Zori and Byock's team excavated a farmstead called Hrísbrú in Iceland's Mosfell Valley. The farm--inhabited by some of the most famous Vikings of the Icelandic sagas--included a chieftain's longhouse nearly 100 feet long with a "feast-worthy" great hall, a church and a cemetery of 26 graves.

Carbon dating and studies of volcanic layers indicate the longhouse was built in the late ninth or early 10th century and abandoned by the 11th. The archeological team uncovered 38 layers of floor ash, including refuse dumped atop the abandoned house, also discovering bones, barley seeds and valuable glass beads imported from Asia.

"By applying anthropology and medieval texts, we can excavate and compare," Zori said.

Viking sagas, first written in the 13th century and based on oral accounts, included such details as where people sat at feasts, "which shows your ranking ...These texts read almost like novels. They're incredible sources. They talk about daily life," Zori said. "Yes, the Vikings may have put axes to one another's heads--but these accounts also describe milking cows."

Excavations show that choice cattle were selected for feasts, with ritual slaughter and display of skulls, according to research published by Zori and others in the journal Antiquity. Barley seeds unearthed from floors or refuse heaps indicate barley consumption, and pollen studies demonstrate barley cultivation. Barley could have been used for bread or porridge, but beer's social value makes it likely barley was used to produce alcohol, Zori said.

As the landscape changed due to erosion, climate shifts and cleared forests, it became harder to produce large numbers of cattle.

High-status households also struggled to grow enough grain for beer-making, based on historical accounts and confirmed by a growing body of archeological data.

When barley was abandoned, the pollen record shows native grasses for grazing increased. Archeological findings show that the proportion of cattle to sheep bones declined, as Hrísbrú residents shifted to more practical, less laborious sheep-herding.

"What we’re doing now is to let the archaeology speak, both for itself and for proof to verify (the texts)," he said. "Investigating politics breathes life into it, instead of just saying, 'Here are three rocks.' You can ask deeper questions."

Zori argues that Viking chieftains' drive to produce expensive beef and beer caused them to put their political aspirations above the greater good of the community.

“Maybe we don’t need the Vikings to prove this," he said. "But it shows you that politics can become more important than creating a productive society."