The Untold History of Iceland's Most Controversial Symbol

The Vegvísir : one of the most beloved and most despised symbols within the Viking community.

Because this symbol is known as “The Wayfinder,” and because it comes to us from Iceland (a land originally founded and populated by Norse settlers), it has commonly been nicknamed the “Viking Compass” or “Norse Compass.” The Vegvísir has become one of the world's most recognizable tattoo designs, appearing on the bodies of untold thousands of people around the world

It is fair and historically accurate to state that there is no direct evidence of the Vegvísir symbol being used during the Viking Age. The earliest presently known surviving example appears in the Icelandic Huld manuscript, compiled by Geir Vigfússon in 1860, with two additional known examples appearing in 19th-century Icelandic manuscripts. However, acknowledging this lack of earlier surviving evidence is very different from claiming it is impossible that the symbol, or elements of the tradition behind it, could have developed from older Icelandic or Norse traditions.

Moreover, dismissing Vegvísir as only a “Christian” or foreign magical symbol oversimplifies the historical reality. Viking-age Scandinavia and early medieval Iceland were already experiencing religious blending, with Norse beliefs and Christianity coexisting well before Iceland’s formal conversion. At least one of the three Icelandic magical manuscripts containing the Vegvísir symbol (the oldest of the three) is notably rich in distinctly Norse mythological material, including Norse gods and runic concepts ...something often ignored by the critics of this symbol.

Nor should these three manuscripts be characterized, as so many critics do, as simply a collection of “Christian" grimoires. The truth is they also contain material drawn from multiple traditions, including Norse. Besides the Norse mythology mentions in the oldest manuscript (Huld), or the Ægishjálmur (a word and concept that is explicitly preserved in older Norse literature) and mentioned in the Galdrakver (Lbs 2917), another particularly striking example is a magical stave explicitly named Þórshamar (“Thor’s Hammer”), after the unmistakably Norse god Thor and his famous weapon. 

A Þórshamar stave appears in two of the three 19th-century manuscripts that also contain Vegvísir, including the 1860 Huld manuscript and the 1868–69 Galdrakver (Lbs 2917 a 4to). The two versions (see below) are not identical, but both are explicitly identified by the Norse name Þórshamar. This does not prove that either stave design dates to the Viking Age, but it clearly demonstrates why describing the contents of these manuscripts as strictly “Christian" magic can give a misleading impression of what they actually contain.

So, implying that these three manuscripts have absolutely nothing Scandinavian about them is both misleading and incorrect. Thus, it is this common assumption, that it would be absolutely impossible for the Vegvisir symbol to have been possibly passed down from Norse ancestors that we wish to challenge.

Yes, we are well aware of the online articles (and videos) that make this claim. Some are written by people we respect deeply, including friends who have contributed to our Viking History blog. Even so, we believe there is far more to the story.

There are three primary reasons why Vegvísir is commonly labeled a "Christian magic" symbol or the implication that it is impossible to have been passed down from Icelandic / Norse ancestors:

First, one of the three Icelandic magical books, the youngest of the three, does indeed attach a Christian invocation to the symbol:

“To avoid getting lost: keep this sign under your left arm, its name is Vegvísir and it will serve you if you believe in it, if you believe in God in the name of Jesus… May God give me luck and blessing in the name of Jesus.”

These manuscripts are undeniably a mixture of beliefs. However, it is critical to note that only the youngest manuscript contains this explicitly Christian wording connected to the Vegvisir, while the oldest of the tree (that each contain the Vegvisir) is filled with Norse magic, Norse gods, and Norse mythological concepts. Again, this distinction is rarely mentioned by critics, leaving the false impression that all three books are strictly Christian in nature.

A more honest assessment would acknowledge that this blending of Norse paganism and Christianity was not only common in early modern Iceland, but can be traced back to the Viking Age itself.

Second, critics often point to the resemblance between Vegvísir and symbols found in the so-called “Solomonic” magical tradition. While there are certainly visual similarities, no exact match for Vegvísir has been identified among these symbols. Interestingly, Ægishjálmur (the Helm of Awe) arguably bears a resemblance to some of them, yet Ægishjálmur has well-established roots in Norse literary tradition. Furthermore, there are multiple examples (that we demonstrate later in this article), that are similar circular and eightfold radial imagery which existed in Scandinavia long before the surviving Icelandic magical manuscripts, and even before the Viking Age. This is rarely acknowledged when the visual similarities to continental magical symbols are discussed.

No known Solomonic manuscript contains Vegvísir itself, and no direct line of descent from a Solomonic symbol to Vegvísir has been demonstrated. Similarities between Icelandic magical staves and symbols found in continental magical traditions are certainly worthy of study, but visual similarity alone does not establish ancestry. This same standard should apply whether one is proposing a continental European, Christian, or older Norse influence. Furthermore, these symbols are typically associated with Kabbalistic traditions, not Christianity itself.

Even if the Christian-origin theory were correct (which we challenge below), it would still be a flawed argument to claim this alone proves Vegvísir could not have been inherited from Norse ancestors. There is solid archaeological and historical evidence that Christianity had already reached the Norse world during the Viking Age and that Christian and traditional Norse beliefs coexisted.

Numerous runestones commissioned by Viking kings include Christian elements, and the proportion of runestones containing Christian symbolism is far higher than most realize. Whether these conversions were spiritual or political is debated, but the idea that anything Christian must be disconnected from Viking history is demonstrably false.

So why does the youngest manuscript explicitly reference Christianity? One plausible explanation is that an older symbol of uncertain origin was reframed within a later Christian context.

An example of this blending appears in a much older Icelandic writing, known as the Book of Settlements, where Helgi the Lean, one of Iceland’s Norse founders (during the late 9th century), summed up his faith:

“On land I pray to Christ, but on the stormy sea I pray to Thor.”

The above quote was believed to have been written in the 12th to early 13th century. No one reads this and concludes that Thor is therefore a part of Christianity.

Likewise, in the Njáls saga (written around the late 13th century), scholars have noted oaths invoking both Christianity and traditional Norse runic beliefs, such as:

“I swear by the name of Christ and by the ancient, sacred runes that my word shall never be broken.”

These examples, among others, demonstrate that blending Christian and Norse elements was not only possible, but common in post-Viking-Age Icelandic culture.

Third, critics often emphasize that the Vegvísir does not appear in any surviving source prior to the 19th century Icelandic manuscripts. That is true. However, absence of earlier surviving documentation is not the same as proof that a symbol was newly created at that moment. History has repeatedly shown that our timelines are limited by what happens to survive.

A well-known example is the discovery of the Dead Sea Scrolls in 1947. Before their discovery, the oldest surviving Hebrew biblical manuscripts dated to the 10th century Masoretic tradition. The scrolls, however, pushed our manuscript evidence back more than a thousand years, and in many cases showed the texts to be remarkably consistent overall, even virtually identical apart from spelling variations and minor wording differences.

Until the Dead Sea Scrolls were found, one could fairly argue that the hebrew biblical manuscripts may have been first authored in the 10th century.

The lesson is not that every later manuscript preserves ancient material, but that historical conclusions based solely on the earliest surviving copy must remain open to revision. It is entirely possible for symbols, stories, or motifs to circulate orally or in perishable forms long before they appear in the manuscript record.

We encourage you to take a deeper look at the history behind this very popular symbol.

Christian authorities have historically condemned any forms of magic and sorcery

Just one example of this is Revelations 21:8: "... those who practice magic arts ... will be consigned to the fiery lake of burning sulfur.” 

Biblical texts and mainstream Christian authorities have repeatedly condemned sorcery, divination, necromancy, and many other practices classified as magic. At the same time, the historical relationship between Christianity and magic was complicated, with some medieval Christians practicing ritual, protective, healing, and angelic forms of magic within an explicitly Christian worldview.

Earlier Icelandic magical manuscripts and related materials existed in a culture in which accusations of sorcery could carry severe legal consequences, including execution, and magical books could be confiscated or destroyed.

This is what most people completely misunderstand when they loosely claim that this is a 'Christian symbol' (more on this and the supposed Solomon connection below). 

Vegvísir and the Ægishjálmur symbols: What are They?

Vegvísir (i.e. “the Wayfinder”) and Ægishjálmur (i.e. “the Helm of Awe”) are both magical symbols that fall into the category of sigils, or staves or galdrastafir.

The world of our ancestors was a tough place, and people were desperate for any way to shift their luck towards the good. They tended to make little distinction between the natural and supernatural world and to take their faith systems literally. Thus, it was perfectly normal for people to attempt to interact with the supernatural world in hopes of obtaining good fortune in the natural world.

One side of this has always been religious practices, such as prayers and offerings to gods and spirits. The other side of this is magic, the attempt to exert influence on the spirit world in order for the spirit world to exert positive influence back on this one.

Vegvísir means “That Which Shows the Way” or “way finder”. It is an Icelandic magical stave, similar in shape to the Helm of Awe, but while each of the arms of the Ægishjálmur is the same, the arms of the Vegvísir are all different. Vegvísir was a visual spell of protection against getting lost (particularly at sea) – something that was very, very dangerous in pre-modern times.

Besides the fact that the Vegvisir is known as a wayfinder and comes to us from Iceland which is heavily populated by direct descendants of actual sea-traveling Vikings, the Vegvisir is also referred to as a compass because it has 8 points. However, this is something of an anachronism. Vikings did indeed use the concept of 8 directions (not all cultures do, by the way) and they may have had directional finding instruments of their own, such as sunstones or the Uunartoq disc. However, most of their navigation came down to visual cues (the sun, stars, flight patterns of birds, the color of water, etc.). Rather than being a representation of a compass as we think of it, Vegvísir’s 8 “arms” are each thought to be a charm against specific dangers of travel.

The Ægishjálmur, or Helm of Awe, is a magical Icelandic symbol of protection and victory. The Helm of Awe is mentioned in several of the Eddic poems and in the Volsung Saga. In these sources, though, the Helm of Awe is referring to an actual, physical helmet and not a symbol. This magic “helmet” has had the ability to strike terror into the hearts of enemies. As Fafnir (the dwarf-turned-dragon) said,

“I wore my terror-helmet [Ægishjálmur in Old Norse] against all men … and I feared no weapon. I never faced so many men that I did not feel myself much stronger than they were, and everyone feared me.”

The symbol by the same name that was believed to be imbued with similar properties survives in later Icelandic grimoires (books of magic). The later symbol consists of eight arms or rays extending from a central point. Some modern interpretations describe components of the design as rune-like or as bindrunes, although the precise historical meaning and construction of the design remain debated.

There is also controversy over runes and bindrunes having inherent magical properties or secret meanings, but we will go into that in another article. First, though, let’s try to put this whole discussion in context by taking a look at the culture that brought us these symbols.

Magic and Norse Mythology …are not exactly strangers

Stories of magical runes, symbols and spells are extremely common within Norse mythology. Below is just one example (from Egil's Saga) that has the same 'flavor' as what we find within the Icelandic magic books containing the Vegvisir symbol. In this example we find Viking hero Egil realizing a rune spell has gone wrong and replaces it with one of his own making:

When Egil had eaten his fill he went to where the woman was lying and spoke to her. He ordered them to lift her out of bed and place clean sheets underneath her, and this was done. Then he examined the bed she had been lying in, and found a whalebone with runes carved on it. After reading the runes, Egil shaved them off and scraped them into the fire. He burned the whalebone and had her bedclothes aired. Then Egil spoke a verse:

No man should carve runes unless he can read them well;
many a man go astray around those dark letters.
On the whalebone I saw ten secret letters carved,
from them the linden tree took her long harm.

Egil cut some runes and placed them under the pillow of the bed where she was lying. She felt as if she were waking from a deep sleep, and she said she was well again, but still very weak.  (chapter 73)

Iceland was (and remains) an extremely NORSE based culture

Again, the oldest of the three surviving Icelandic manuscripts containing Vegvísir is filled with Norse mythology, runic material, and concepts inherited from Iceland's Norse cultural past. This certainly does not prove that Vegvísir itself originated in the Viking Age. It does demonstrate, however, that genuinely Norse material was being preserved alongside later material within the same Icelandic intellectual and magical tradition. The question, therefore, is not whether Icelanders could preserve older Norse ideas, we know they did, but whether Vegvísir might be one element of that inherited and evolving tradition.

Iceland was founded by Vikings beginning in the 9th century. According to the sagas and the Landnámabók (the Book of Settlements), most of these Vikings were fleeing the political changes happening in mainland Scandinavia. They wanted to preserve their way of life including their democratic self-government.

Genetic studies confirm a substantial Gaelic contribution to Iceland's founding population. Estimates vary depending on the genetic markers examined, but modern Icelandic ancestry has been estimated at roughly two-thirds Norse and one-third Gaelic, with studies suggesting that Scandinavian ancestry was especially predominant among male settlers while a much larger proportion of female ancestry originated in the British Isles

Whether or not they were mostly slaves, or Vikings who were children of Viking fathers and Celtic mothers, or even a combination of both, is an on-going debate. Many of the Gaelic settlers brought to Iceland from Ireland and the British Isles would have come from predominantly Christian societies, while some Norse settlers had also encountered or adopted Christianity. Iceland's founding population therefore included both pagan Norse and Christian influences from an early period.

The Norse and Gaelic cultures are both well-known for their storytelling, spirituality, and strong sense of tradition. While the Norse of Iceland were primarily an oral culture, the Irish and Scots were already very literary people. So, it should be no surprise that Icelanders became known as tremendous lore masters and poets. In the Viking Age, Icelanders were recruited by kings not only as warriors but as court skalds (bards). Talented Icelanders like Egil Skallagrimsson and Gunnlaug Serpent-Tongue traveled the Viking world receiving as much welcome for their words as for their sword skill.

But the Icelanders did not just have a way with words, they had an eye for detail and the memory to pass it all down. The Icelandic sagas (not written down until the 13th century) not only tell the stories of the warriors, farmers, feuds, legal battles, explorations, and love lives of the first 300 years of Icelanders – they also contain family trees and a social structure that remains remarkably cohesive across dozens of volumes.

Critics of the sagas assert that these stories are merely historical fiction and they only appear to have lifelike and watertight detail because they were constructed to seem real. Even if that were true, the sagas are a remarkable literary accomplishment that reveal the extent of Iceland’s literary genius and ability to preserve the past.

Iceland’s population contracted between the Viking Age and modern times and did not experience significant influxes of peoples from elsewhere. Thus, Icelanders are more connected to true, sea-traveling Viking ancestors than virtually any other country. The Icelandic language is very close to Old Norse – far closer to Old Norse than Swedish, Norwegian or Danish. Iceland preserved an extraordinary share of the medieval literary sources through which we understand Norse mythology, heroic tradition, skaldic poetry, and the Viking Age, including the Eddas and many of the sagas.

The exception would be the 12th century Gesta Danorum (Deeds of the Danes) by Saxo Grammaticus – but even Saxo admitted that he owed a heavy debt to Icelandic lore masters in the writing of his masterpiece.

But there is another essential element to Iceland’s culture that allowed for the survival of so much Viking lore. As previously mentioned, Iceland started its history as a place with multiple faiths. In the year 1000, the Althing (the democratic governing body in Iceland) addressed mounting religious strife and the need to “keep up with the times” by reaching a strange decision.

Around the year 1000, the Alþingi accepted Christianity as Iceland's official religion. According to the traditional accounts, certain pagan practices were initially permitted in private, although these concessions were subsequently restricted. Even after it ceased, legally speaking, this strange conversion story and the lack of social pressures from the outside led to Icelanders showing a far more tolerant attitude towards their pagan heritage.

Icelandic Magic in a Blended Religious Age

Professor Kenneth Harl of Tulane University speaks to the conversion experience in the Viking Age, “It usually took Vikings two or three generations to figure out what monotheism was” (2005). In the meantime, there was a mix of faiths interacting in the Vikings' minds. Another poignant example can be observed in the archeological excavation in Scandinavia of a Norse sorceress who had – among other talismans – a cross around her neck. Other graves have shown Mjolnir (Thor's Hammer) amulets along side of Christian crosses. Clearly, the Vikings were not sticklers for exclusionary doctrine.

Witch Hunts and Executions

This laissez-faire attitude continued to some extent during Iceland’s Catholic period (circa 1000-1550). But when the King of Denmark (then the ruler of Iceland) cast out the Catholic clergy and instituted Lutheran Protestantism in Iceland, this was challenged. In the 16th and 17th centuries, Europe was in the throes of religious and civil wars. The Reformation and the Counter-Reformation were at a fever pitch. With these politico-religious climates in Europe came the phenomenon of witch burnings and the Inquisition, which claimed thousands of lives.

Iceland experienced a much smaller witch persecution than many parts of Europe, with approximately 22 confirmed executions for witchcraft during the 17th century, the overwhelming majority of the victims being men. While in mainland Europe, most of these condemned witches and heretics were women. Unlike most European witch persecutions, Iceland's trials overwhelmingly targeted men; only one woman is securely documented among those executed for witchcraft.

But, unfortunately for those of us who study all these things now, one thing was not going to escape the fires of fervor and suspicion so easily …and that was Books.

Archeology and the Tragedy of Burned Books

There are ZERO surviving examples of Vegvísir in archeology before they appear in these three Icelandic books. None. No Wayfinders carved on a ship’s prow, no Ægishjálmur engraved on a helmet, nothing. These symbols might not be seen on rune stones or other Norse artifacts, but they have also never once been found in Christian churches either. The archaeological record is completely quiet when it comes to these Icelandic staves (galdrastafir).

To some people this fact alone somehow proves that these symbols are 'new' or could not have possibly been older than the 19th century.

However, below is a list of possible reasons why older examples do not exist:

Ólafur Davíðsson, writing in Iceland 120 years ago, when many there still practiced these arts and took them seriously, offers,

The magic symbols were mostly written on paper … calfskin or parchment. Sometimes they were scratched on various types of wood: mostly on oak, but also on fir, spruce, beech and maple; or on different implements: wooden plates, basins, spoons, hinged lids; or on ships, to hinder people’s industrial or whalebone fishing. There are occurrences where magic symbols were to be scratched on bones and in one particular spot it is stressed that one should scratch it on a human bone. Also magic symbols were scratched on various ores or rocks (silver, lead, brass, whetstone) and food (bread, cheese). Finally magic symbols were scratched on ‘surtarbrandur’, the shell of a chicken egg, the skin of the Water Rail and many more items like this have been used. It also happened that people drew magic symbols with their saliva on certain body parts, such as the forehead, and these or other symbols could only be drawn with certain fingers. Sometimes the magic symbols were also formed out of metal and pressed on different body parts, and even some magic symbols were applied only on certain days or at certain times of day. The magic symbols would have usually been well written with ordinary ink, but there are examples where you had to write them with human blood. (Translated J. Foster, 2015).

Not many of these methods Davíðsson mentions would leave many traces in the archeology, where organic materials quickly decompose. While the archeology of Greece and Rome is clear because it is carved in marble, Viking archeology has always been more difficult. But here we have the archeology of trying to find something that even in its own time was meant to be concealed.

A much older source, the Sigrdrifumal of the Poetic Edda tells a similar tale. In this poem (written down in the 13th century but composed well before that) the Valkyrie Sigerdrifa (Victory Driver) advises Sigurd to carve magic runes on a drinking horn, on the back of one’s hand, on a fingernail, on tree bark, on the needles of a pine, on an eagle’s beak and many stranger things besides. How much confidence could anyone have in missing archeological signs of such things?

Most magic was taught by word of mouth and passed on from teacher to apprentice, as it always had been. There was an effort throughout the Middle Ages though to compile this information into books. A few of these books were grimoires (magic books in the European tradition, like something you would see on Harry Potter), including the famous Rauðskinna of Gottskálk Nikolásson, Bishop of Hólar in the early 1500s. Though a bishop, Gottskálk the Grim was “the greatest wizard of his day” and a practitioner of the black magic “practiced in pagan times.” His Rauðskinna was allegedly a red-leather gilded volume written in runes, but it followed him to the grave and is now lost.

Most Icelandic magic books were not grand grimoires like the Rauðskinna, though. They were “little” magic books called galdrakver or galdraskræður. These were basically notebooks or booklets where various spells and symbols were compiled. We know about them mostly from documents in witch trials. Many magical books were confiscated or destroyed during witchcraft prosecutions, undoubtedly contributing to gaps in the surviving record. Others would have been lost through the ordinary destruction of fragile manuscripts over the centuries. Usually, the accused witch was spared but his or her books and accouterments were publicly destroyed. Others may have destroyed or hidden their own books to avoid persecution.

The surviving corpus is fragmentary, and some important Icelandic magical manuscripts date considerably earlier than the 19th century. The three presently known manuscripts containing Vegvísir itself, however, are all from the 19th century. It was only after the Age of Enlightenment, the waning of the Church’s punitive legal power, and the renewed interest of the Romantic Era that made it safe for magic to come out of the shadows. But by this time, all you have are scraps of information that are compiled ad hoc from what was available.

The grimoires we have do not present a cohesive doctrine or discipline but are eclectic collections of magical fragments. This is partially because of how the information was collected and preserved, but part is also by design. The galdrakver and grimoires were not meant to be used by the uninitiated or to be a beginner’s guide. Rather, the information contained in them was meant to supplement and enhance oral transmission from a skilled teacher.

Vegvísir and Ægishjálmur on Paper

The earliest presently known surviving depiction of Vegvísir appears in the Huld manuscript (ÍB 383 4to), compiled by Geir Vigfússon in Akureyri in 1860, who gathered it from numerous other sources, including old books of folk medicine in addition to other magic books. The manuscript is noted for its beautiful presentation and calligraphy. It is relatively short, though, and quite a few pages have been removed and lost.

The Huld manuscript begins with 329 runic futharks and alphabets. That is right – when it comes to magic, there are not just the Elder and Younger Futharks but many other ways in which runes can be used or written. Some of these include villuletur or false letters. Runes, false runes, bind runes, and Latin letters were sometimes even combined (not whimsically, but as part of magical formulae). Bind runes could be used so that “a whole word or a whole sentence could be hidden in a symbol” (Davíðsson, 1903, p. 152). For example, in the galdrastafur, Þjófastafur (To uncover Thieves) which appears near Vegvísir in the Huld manuscript, the eight symbols represent eight of the Aesir. Considering hidden meanings like this, the religious alignment of Icelandic magic is more difficult to ascertain than some might assume.

The Huld contains two completely different versions of Vegvísir on page 60. One is the rune stave that we all know and love, but the other is a very different type of symbol that is horizontal and without arms or spokes. The caption for Vegvísir translates: “Carry this sign with you and you won't get lost in storms or bad weather, even though in unfamiliar surrounds.”

Vegvísir appears in a second grimoire set down a few years after the Huld in 1869. This book is usually called by its descriptor, Galdrakver, or manuscript Lbs 2917 a 4to. This book, penned by Olgeir Geirsson (1842-1880), is a fantastic resource with a large number of rune staves. It is the only one of the manuscripts that has both Vegvísir and Ægishjálmur. The caption under Vegvísir is more or less the same as the Huld manuscript’s caption.

The third and least oldest manuscript featuring Vegvísir is known as Galdrakver, or manuscript Lbs 4627 8vo. This author is unknown but the book is believed to be from the 19th century. It is this book that is often quoted as proving the symbol is “Christian”, but we will address more on the full context of this below.

One point deserves emphasis: Vegvísir is not an isolated symbol appearing in only one manuscript. It appears in all three of the presently known 19th-century Icelandic manuscripts discussed above, compiled by different hands. This does not tell us how old the symbol is, but it does demonstrate that Vegvísir belonged to a broader Icelandic magical tradition rather than being merely an isolated invention appearing in a single surviving book.

"The Vegvísir is Young" Argument

The sources mentioned here are only from the mid-19th century. Although these surviving sources were compiled in the 19th century and drew upon earlier Icelandic magical traditions and materials, we cannot presently determine how far back Vegvísir itself extends because no earlier depiction of the symbol has yet been identified.

So just how far back does this symbol go? Well, there may be oblique references to Vegvísir in witch trial documents. For example, Davíðsson (1903) reports a case in 1664 wherein a schoolmaster confiscated a book of magic from his students. This book would have been a great treasure to us today because it contained 80 spells and 237 figures. The book was destroyed, but the contents were catalogued first. They included “#41: To get no storms at sea, accompanied by a figure” and “#51: A further 30 symbols (with no details), which you should have on hand.” Now, indeed, this may seem unconvincing to some critics, as it is not mentioning Vegvísir by name or by image, only a similar idea of safety in travel and a reference to “figures” and “symbols,” however, it does show that such ‘magical symbols’ were indeed in place.

Probably the most interesting thing about the 1664 report is that it does mention Ægishjálmur by name (number 20) showing that this was recognizable as a symbol and common enough that it was known to men who could not identify many of the other items in the grimoire. Aside from this early mention in the 1664 report, the oldest surviving example of a fully formed Ægishjálmur symbol called by that name is in the 1670 Galdrakver manuscript Lbs. 143 8vo.

Foreign Influence

Archaeological finds and medieval Norse literature provide substantial evidence that magical and supernatural beliefs formed an important part of Viking-Age Scandinavian culture, although the surviving literary accounts were generally written down centuries later. It fact, it is difficult to find a Norse saga or poem that does not mention magic, symbolism, or engrained faith in the supernatural! Viking-Age Scandinavians maintained extensive trade, raiding, settlement, and diplomatic contacts across Europe and beyond, exposing them to numerous foreign religious, artistic, technological, and cultural influences. So, we would not expect Vikings to miss an opportunity to acquire new spells.

Iceland was founded by Vikings and in the centuries that followed the population even shrank and remained largely insular. This does not mean that there was no foreign influence, though. In fact, Icelanders were naturally curious and happy to incorporate things from other cultures. They translated and adapted courtly romances from France and told stories about Alexander the Great. They also picked up foreign magic.

According to Ólafur Davíðsson (1903) much of this foreign magic came to Iceland in the Middle Ages (especially the 13th-14th century), with priests and scribes being likely (but not exclusive) culprits. Davíðsson states that though foreign magic was incorporated early and well-mixed with other Icelandic (Norse mythology related) magic, the galdrastafir made from bindrunes were considered more serious and more dangerous “because they were pagan” (p. 151).

But what kind of foreign magic do we see in the Icelandic manuscripts? The source that is most often suggested (or assumed) is the Clavicula Salomonis (The Key of Solomon), which was written sometime before 1426. The Clavicula Salomonis should not be confused with the Lesser Key of Solomon or the Notary of Solomon (both written in the early 1600s) nor should it be confused with the Testament of Solomon written all the way back in the 1^st-3^rd century. To help differentiate it from these other sources (which are similar in theme but very different in presentation) the Clavicula Salomonis is sometimes called The Greater Key of Solomon. The Clavicula Salomonis has been called “the most famous and important of all grimoires,” and is a lengthy book (by the standards of the day) covering many aspects of astrology, demonology, exorcisms, and spells.

The element that draws the most comparison to Icelandic magic (and especially to the Vegvísir and Ægishjálmur) are the astrological pentacles. Like the Vegvísir, these symbols have eight arms or rays, usually with different lines at their termini.

Though the pentacles found in this book bear a resemblance to Vegvísir, it is important to note that Vegvísir itself does NOT appear in the Clavicula Salomonis or ANY other known source outside of Iceland. Moreover, the pentacles are only a small part of the Clavicula Salomonis. As for the other “Solomon” books, such as the Lesser Key or the Notary, there are also superficial similarities in formula (such as calling on multiple spirits, applying specific conditions to spell casting, etcetera) but this can be said for most European magic.

Are Vegvísir and Ægishjálmur Christian? ...or Christian Mysticism?

Recently, people on the internet (including some well-researched and well-written pieces) have taken to calling Vegvísir and Ægishjálmur “Christian” symbols or claim that the symbols had their origin in “Christian mysticism”. Though this is a perfectly understandable assumption, it is incorrect for a number of reasons:

• Christianity (through its Bible) unequivocally condemns magic, often in strongly-worded terms. As well, the Catholic Church and mainstream Protestant denominations have always prohibited magic, and generally deemed it the domain of the devil or at least false prophets. Recall that it was the Church that burned the magic books (and occasionally the magician too) which is why there are so few surviving sources for Vegvísir and Ægishjálmur. In the history of Icelandic magic, there have been a number of noted wizards and warlocks who were also Christian bishops, such as Gottskálk the Grim, but at that time being a bishop had more to do with learning, wealth, and family connections and was not especially dependent on piety. These bishops and priests were usually purged by the Church when their magical dealings could no longer go ignored. Icelandic magic has therefore never been “Christian” in the sense of being accepted by the Church.
  
  
• A “Christian” symbol would be a symbol that expresses Christianity, such as a cross, holy dove, etc. The Vegvísir and Ægishjálmur are not this. Again, these symbols might not have ever been found on rune stones or other Norse artifacts, but they have also never once been found in Christian churches either.
  
  

But what about the supposed Solomon connection?

Some claim the symbols are Christian because they believe they come from similar looking symbols found in continental books ... Clavicula Salomonis.

First, it needs to be made clear that while these various round symbols do indeed have a similar look, the Vegvisir does NOT appear within any of them. If anything, it could be argued that the Helm of Awe symbol more closely resembles the image found in the upper right hand corner, but so do the Scandinavian related images seen below. Thus, it is interesting to us now so many people scoff at the idea of assuming these Icelandic symbols may have been passed down by their Norse ancestors, while at the same time making the "100% positive" claim that the Vegvisir comes from these "Solomon" symbols.

This raises an interesting question of consistency. Some who readily acknowledge that the later Ægishjálmur stave might preserve or develop from an older Norse tradition nevertheless dismiss the same possibility for Vegvísir, even though the familiar Ægishjálmur design itself does not survive from the Viking Age and, visually, arguably resembles some of the so-called Solomonic symbols even more closely than Vegvísir does. Ægishjálmur certainly has a stronger claim to Norse ancestry because its name and concept appear in Old Norse literature. But if a later surviving symbol can potentially preserve an older tradition in one case, the possibility cannot reasonably be declared impossible in the other merely because an earlier physical example has not yet been found.

Compare the symbol found in the upper-right corner above with this image from prehistoric Scandinavian rock art, often interpreted as a solar image. Interestingly, it likewise features eight radiating arms, each terminating in three prongs:

Nor is the above the only example of a circular image with 8 arms found in prehistoric Scandinavian rock art. 

This example seen here comes from the Flyhov rock-carving site in Västergötland, Sweden, a site containing extensive prehistoric carvings generally associated with the Scandinavian Bronze Age. Among its numerous figures are several wheel-cross designs, including this particularly striking example consisting of a circular border with eight spokes radiating from a central point. The EuroPreArt archaeological database specifically records five wheel-cross figures at Flyhov, four with four spokes and one with eight.

Again, we are not suggesting that either image is an early Ægishjálmur or Vegvísir. Wheel and solar imagery occurs in many ancient cultures, and the precise meanings of these prehistoric Scandinavian designs cannot simply be assumed.

What is relevant is their visual vocabulary: eightfold radial designs unquestionably existed in prehistoric Scandinavian art.

Another particularly striking example comes from the Brøndumgård deposit in northern Jutland, Denmark:

Dating to approximately 1100–900 BC, the deposit contained several bronze wheel pendants, including the eight-spoked example shown here. Archaeologist Jeanette Varberg notes that its decoration helps securely date the find to this period and identifies the wheel pendants from Brøndumgård and nearby Sæsing as a distinctive Jutland type.

Its original function remains uncertain, although Varberg suggests that the wheel pendants were probably associated with horse equipment. Whatever its purpose or meaning, the artifact provides another unmistakable example of eightfold radial imagery in prehistoric Scandinavia: a central circle surrounded by eight spokes radiating outward within a larger circle. Once again, this does not establish any direct connection to the much later Icelandic magical staves, but it demonstrates that this basic visual form had existed within Scandinavian material culture for well over a thousand years before the Viking Age.

The comparison becomes even more interesting when we consider the following object from Skivum, Denmark:

In 1969, P. V. Glob documented a small stone from Skivum, Denmark (c. 7 cm), engraved with a circle containing eight radiating spokes and a small hand. The object was later reproduced as Fig. 54 (seen here) in S. A. Saugmann’s 1981 study Vikingernes tidsregning og kursmetode (“The Vikings’ Timekeeping and Method of Determining Course”). Saugmann describes the symbol as a "wind rose”, a circular compass-like diagram. 

Notably, Saugmann’s entire work connects such observations of the sun, stars, and celestial direction to Norse mythology—Odin, the Æsir, Valhalla, and passages from the Elder Edda. In the specific discussion of the Skivum stone, Saugmann links the hand signs to celestial wayfinding, particularly the leiðarstjarna (guiding star, i.e., Polaris) and possible direction toward Valhalla.

This comparison is intriguing but does not prove the eight-spoked Skivum symbol is an ancestor of either the Vegvísir or Ægishjálmur, nor does it prove a direct, unbroken symbolic lineage into the Icelandic magical manuscripts. What it does show is that eightfold radial imagery existed in Scandinavian visual culture long before the medieval period, and that concepts of direction, guidance, and "wayfinding" were already embedded in Norse worldview. We must therefore be cautious about assuming that visually similar features in later Icelandic magical staves are necessarily foreign imports; similarity can suggest influence, but similarity alone cannot prove origin or transmission direction.

Further, the various works attributed to Solomon draw from a complex mixture of Jewish, Kabbalistic, Christian, and other magical traditions, depending on the particular text and manuscript. Christian prayers, names, and imagery do appear within some of these works. However, the presence of Christian elements within a magical tradition does not establish that every symbol appearing alongside them is Christian in origin. The same standard should be applied to the Icelandic grimoires.

Likewise, it has not been established that the various Icelandic staves and sigils (galdrastafir) are directly descended from the star-shaped pentacles of the Clavicula Salomonis or any other particular known work. Similarities may provide evidence worth investigating, but visual resemblance alone is not proof of a line of descent.

So why the common jump to assumption? Well, similar to the modern practice of voodoo, all the surviving grimoires do indeed feature Christian sentiments and imagery. Within the various books one finds numerous invocations of Christianity.

HOWEVER, within these same exact Icelandic magic books there are also numerous invocations to Odin, Thor, and the other Norse gods, trolls and Jötnar (Norse giants). 

The would-be witch or wizard is instructed to conjure these many opposing and divergent spiritual forces to charge the spells in order to make them work. As Davíðsson (1903) elaborates, sigils and protection charms are usually ascribed to positive spiritual forces. Professor Glenn Holland of Alleghany College stated the following:

"Magical practices ... are a product of syncretism. Syncretism is the combination and identification of one religious culture with another, the exchange of elements from one religious culture and another."

This hodge-podge of religious appeals and assigning of spirits is typical of magic around the world and throughout time. One need only to visit New Orleans or South America to see modern day examples. If magic was a means to influence the spirit world to affect the natural world, then recruiting the right spirits for the job only makes sense. Which would better explain why we see in the Icelandic grimoires non-Christian magic symbols being connected with Christian invocations.

Below is where the Christian influence anxiety (pertaining to Vegvísir) comes from: One of the three books, the Huld and Galdrakver manuscript Lbs 2917 a 4to the caption for Vegvísir reads: “Carry this sign with you and you won't get lost in storms or bad weather, even though in unfamiliar surrounds.” But in Galdrakver Lbs 4627 8vo, Vegvísir is accompanied by relatively lengthy and decidedly Christian instructions:

“To avoid getting lost: keep this sign under your left arm, its name is Vegvísir and it will serve you if you believe in it – if you believe in God in the name of Jesus – the meaning of this sign is hidden in these words, so you may not perish. May God give me luck and blessing in the name of Jesus.” (Vlasatý, 2020).

These instructions are unusual, but understandable within the syncretic context of Icelandic magic, where older Norse concepts, later Christian invocations, and other magical traditions could exist alongside one another. The quote above appears in only one late manuscript and not within the older two. So there is no way to know at what point or to what extent these prayers were part of the Vegvísir story. It is also possible that invocations like these formed a disclaimer – an assurance of the spell’s safety while removing the magical purveyor from blame if it did not work.

Ægishjálmur (and indeed many other spells and symbols) is assigned instructions that make no mention of deities or spirits. In the 1670 Galdrakver Lbs. 143 8vo the caption reads:

Terror Helm. It shall be made in lead, and when
a man expects his enemies he shall imprint it
on his forehead. And thou wilt conquer him.

In the 1862 secondary source by folklorist Jón Árnason it also reads irreligiously:

I wash from me my enemies’ hatred,
the greed and wrath of powerful men.

However, in the famous Galdrabók (published in 1920 but believed to be written sometime between 1550-1650) a different, simpler version of the Ægishjálmur comes with the instructions to call on the Holy Trinity as well as Odin, along with two other spirits, Ölver and Illi. It also mentions Mary in the same passage. Foster (2020) remarks, “This is a reminder that everything about galdrastafir was fluid and flexible, almost at the whim of the galdramenn [magic users] who created them.”

It is perhaps worth noting that almost none of our sources for anything Viking is completely free from later Christian influence. The sagas were written by Christians of later centuries. The Prose Edda lore of Snorri Sturluson contains blatant attempts to euhemerize gods and reconcile the Pagan past with the Christian present. Saxo Grammaticus moralizes at length in his biographies of Ragnar Lothbrok and the rest. Even some of the poems of the Elder Edda may have been “tampered with” by medieval Christian scribes. Indeed, the Vikings themselves were usually caught in the middle between these two world views. The Christian-Pagan interface is a feature of Norse studies (and an interesting one) and should not scare anyone away.

Conclusion

Ultimately, the standard of evidence should be the same regardless of which origin one favors. Visual similarity to a continental magical symbol does not by itself prove continental descent, just as similarities to earlier Scandinavian symbols do not prove Norse descent. Just as the absence of a Viking-Age example prevents us from calling Vegvísir a proven Viking-Age symbol, the existence of an 1860 surviving manuscript does not PROVE that Vegvísir was therefore an 1860 invention.

Icelandic magic is a fascinating and frustrating subject that eludes easy classifications and defies quick explanations. It is a living tradition with a long and obscure history, and so any attempt to force order and clarity upon it are automatically wrong. This article has only scratched the surface of this topic. Our purposes, though, were to investigate questions concerning Vegvísir and Ægishjálmur, so let us summarize our findings.

Though our oldest presently known surviving depiction dates to 1860, that date establishes only how far back the surviving physical evidence presently takes us. It does not establish when Vegvísir was first conceived. It is possible that it comes from the Middle Ages. It may have some connection to foreign influence but this has not been fully established. Vegvísir has only been found in Iceland, and connecting it to other symbols is based on superficial comparisons. It should be noted that star-shapes exist in the natural world (sun rays, flowers, the spokes of a wheel) and simple star-shaped symbols go back even before the Viking Age.

It is, therefore, accurate to point out that there is no way to definitively call Vegvísir “Viking” due to lack of evidence. However, Vegvísir survives within an Icelandic intellectual and magical tradition that also preserved demonstrably older Norse names, stories, runic concepts, gods, and supernatural beliefs. This does not prove that Vegvísir itself dates to the Viking Age, but it makes categorical claims that such continuity was impossible considerably harder to defend.

Ægishjálmur (Helm of Awe) as a symbol was known by name in the 1600s. As a symbol made from bindrunes, it is certainly not unrealistic to think Ægishjálmur could have been conceived by Vikings, but again there is no physical evidence that this symbol was ever used by Vikings.

They are magic symbols, not religious indicators. Their adoption by Neo-Pagan or revival religions is up to the practitioners of those religions.

So, while far too much time has passed and far too much has been lost for Icelandic magic and “Viking” to be proven as the same thing, they are certainly both connected to Icelandic's post-Viking history and heritage.

And while we would certainly understand why the conservative re-enactor would want to refrain from using an Ægishjálmur or Vegvísir while in a Viking re-enactment context, we would also state that there is absolutely nothing wrong with a Viking enthusiast finding these Icelandic symbols interesting and respectfully using them as they see fit. For all we know, the true origin of this symbol may have very well been from Scandinavia and passed down to other locations of Europe over time.

Bottom line: We presently lack the evidence necessary to establish where or when Vegvísir originated. A Viking-Age origin cannot be demonstrated, but neither can the possibility of older Norse or Icelandic continuity simply be dismissed. Until stronger evidence emerges, the historically responsible answer remains the same: we do not know.

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Image Sources:

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Jelling_stones#/media/File:The_Jelling_Stone_-_VIKING_exhibition_at_the_National_Museum_of_Denmark_-_Photo_The_National_Museum_of_Denmark_(9084035770).jpg

References

1. Davíðsson, O. Icelandic Magic Symbols and Spell Books. 1903. Translated J. Foster, 2015. 
2. Huld Manuscript of Galdrastafir Witchcraft Magic Symbols and Runes - English Translation by J. Foster (2015). Huld_Manuscript_of_Galdrastafir_Witchcra (1).pdf
3. Foster. Galdrastafir: Icelandic Magical Staves. 2020 http://www.galdrastafir.com/
4. The Greater Keys of Solomon (Clavicula Salomonis). edited by S. Liddell MacGregor Mathers. Digital edition J. Peterson, 1999. http://www.lastgasps.com/Solomon_-_The_Testament_Key_and_Legematon_of_Solomon_(unabridged).pdf
5. Harl, K. Vikings: The Great Courses. The Teaching Company, Chantilly, VA. 2005.
6. Volsunga Saga (the Saga of the Volsungs). Crawford, J. (translator). Hackett Classics. 2017.
7. The Poetic Edda. Crawford, J. (translator). Hackett Classics. 2015.
8. Egil’s Saga (Egils saga Skallagimssonar). Scudder, B. (translator). In The Sagas of the Icelanders (editor, Thorson, O. & Scudder, B.) Penguin Books, New York, 2001.
9. The Galdrabok: An Icelandic Grimoire. Flowers, S. (translator) Baker Johnson, Inc. Ann Arbor, MI. 1989
10. Brown, N.M. Songs of the Vikings: Snorri and the Making of the Norse Myths. Palgrave.MacMillan, New York. 2012.
11. Saxo Grammaticus. The Danish History. Circa 12^th Century. Retrieved January 4, 2018, from http://www.gutenberg.org/files/1150/1150-h/1150-h.htm
12. The Settlement of Iceland: Ari Frodi (Landnámabók). Ellwood, T. (translator). 1898. Accessed December 23, 2017. https://ia801406.us.archive.org/29/items/booksettlementi00ellwgoog/booksettlementi00ellwgoog.pdf
13. The Book of the Icelanders (ÍSLENDINGABÓK). Finley, A. & Faulkes, A. (translators). Viking Society for Northern Research. London, 2006. Accessed December 23, 2017. http://www.vsnrweb-publications.org.uk/Text%20Series/IslKr.pdf
14. G.S. Holland. The Great Courses: Religion in the Ancient Mediterranean World. The Teaching Company. Chantilly, Virginia. 2005. 
15. Eight-wheeled pendant: https://tidsskrift.dk/kuml/article/view/97312/146444
16. Skivum description: https://www.rockartscandinavia.com/images/articles/goldhahna9.pdf
17. Skivum image: https://slaegtsbibliotek.dk/2024/944072.pdf
19. Rodgers, D. & Noer, K. Sons of Vikings: History, Legends, and Impact of the Viking Age. United States. 2018.