The Importance of Seating in the Viking-Age Longhouse

Introduction

The first half-stanza of verse 2 of Hávamál reads:

Gefendr heilir!
Gestr er inn kominn,
hvar skal sitja sjá?

The subject of this article is the answer to the question posed by the verse: “A guest has come in, where shall he sit?”

In Viking society, the arrangement of seating in the house was critically important. In this article, we will discuss seating in the Viking age: who sat where, how that position was chosen for a person, and what that position indicated about the individual. The nature of seating positions in Viking-age homes informs us about some fascinating inner workings of Viking society.

Tour of a Viking Longhouse

Houses came in a variety of sizes in the Viking age, ranging from the modest homes of small farmers to the massive structures of chieftains (goðar) or the halls of earls and kings. Despite the differences in size, there were many common elements.

Objects mentioned numerous times in the literary sources are the öndvegissúlur, usually translated as high seat pillars. It is possible that they are the two support posts in the middle on one side, but the evidence is not conclusive. We will return to this topic later.

In the literary sources, these benches are most commonly referred to as bekkr and pallr. Bekkr is an ancient word for bench  that is common to many ancient Germanic languages. Pallr is more recent, a loan word that probably postdates the Viking age. In the Viking age, bekkr was probably the favored word for the benches in the house. In the ancient eddic poems, bekkr is used multiple times,¹ but pallr never appears. In runic inscriptions, pallr appears only on a 13th century stone², dating well after the end of the Viking age. The evidence suggests that when pallr is used in the sagas, it is probably an anachronism.

In the ancient prose sources, bekkr is used many times and often clearly refers to the long bench, but it may refer to other seating arrangements as well. Yet many modern sources, such as dictionaries, state that bekkr refers to the long benches and pallr refers to the cross benches. Do the literary sources support this distinction? The answer is unclear.

In the literary sources, pallr is sometimes used to describe both long and cross benches. In some cases, we can clearly see by context that the word describes the cross bench, while in other cases, it refers to the long bench.³ At other times, based on context, pallr is used to describe something distinct from the long benches.⁴

Perhaps this is yet another case where saga authors used multiple words for the same concept, an idea explained by Ármann Jakobsson in his book The Troll Inside You.⁵ We have seen this happen in other aspects of Hurstwic’s Viking research, such as the words fang and glíma being used interchangeably for grappling, and the words hólmganga and einvígi being used for a duel. This second case is another example where many modern sources suggest the words are used to describe different types of duels, an idea not supported by the literary sources. It’s a trap we call modern categorization, and we describe it in our book Men of Terror,⁶ and in our web article on Traps and Pitfalls in Viking Research.⁷

In a few cases, a seat is specifically called out in the literary sources as being the cross bench, using words such as þverpallr (cross-pallr) and others.⁸

These examples might suggest that the öndvegissúlur were not structural elements of the house, since it would imply that settlers had to tear down their house in Norway (or at least significantly damage it) in order to remove the öndvegissúlur to bring them to Iceland. Additionally, there is at least one example in the literary sources describing images of Þórr and his hammer carved into the brúða of a chair.¹⁴ The word might mean the uprights of the armrest, but the usage of the word in other examples suggests the seatback.¹⁵ Despite these seeming connections between gods and pillars, we simply do not have enough information to draw any solid conclusions.

In the human world, it is not clear if there was an actual chair in this place, or whether it was merely a location on the bench. In many cases, notably for the king in his hall, it seems clearly to be a physical object: some kind of raised chair. It could be constructed or built if needed.²⁰ It could be brought in to the hall.²¹ It could be kicked over.²² It could have a hiding place or a chest underneath it.²³

The evidence for the widespread use of chairs in the Viking age is limited, with nearly no archaeological finds. Did the bóndi on his farm sit on a hásæti located at the öndvegi, or did he merely sit on the bench at the öndvegi? It is hard to draw any definitive conclusion based on available evidence, but given the very limited evidence of chairs from the Viking age and the extensive evidence suggesting the near universal presence of benches in longhouses, it seems more likely that chairs would be found in royal settings than in farm settings. Certainly, the bóndi sat at his öndvegi, but there may not have been a chair there, merely a place on the bench. Perhaps the saga authors used the word hásæti for the seat of the bóndi to indicate the place of the head man and top dog of the household.

Occasionally, cushions (hægindi) are mentioned being used for seating, in some cases on the bench, and in others, on the floor.³² Additionally, hay and other grasses are mentioned numerous times being scattered on the floor, and people sometimes are said to sit on the hay on the floor.³³

Now that we have some basic understanding of what all these seating positions are and where they were located in the hall, we will look at who sat in these various places. For additional details about the architecture and layout of Viking-age houses, please look at the Hurstwic articles on longhouses³⁴ and on turfhouses.³⁵

Who sat where?

What is clear from numerous examples in the literary sources is that the top dog sat in the middle of the higher bench: the öndvegi or the hásæti. The top dog, depending on the house, was the king, or sometimes the king and queen together. The top dog was the earl. The top dog was the bóndi, the head of the household on a Viking-age farm.

Occasionally, the literary sources mention that people on the benches were paired up, and sat together as sessunautar³⁹ (seat mates) or bekkjunautar⁴⁰ (bench mates). It’s not clear what interactions these mates had on the bench. The stories tell us that they drank together, and shared the news together⁴¹, and traveled on adventures together on behalf of the king.⁴²

What does seating position tell us and how was it determined?

Throughout a person’s life and after his death, his seating position was chosen for him. An infant to be fostered was placed on his foster-father’s knee in a ritual called knésetja (placing on the knee),⁴³ which served to accept the infant into the family. During life, a person’s seat was chosen by the top dog in whatever hall that person might find himself. After death, the gods might choose a person’s seat. Freyja shares with Óðinn half of the men who have fallen in battle, and she selects where they will sit in her hall, called Sessrumnir (place with many seats).⁴⁴ Even the name of the hall suggests the importance of seating.

Perhaps the only circumstance in which an individual’s seat was not chosen by someone else was if that individual were the top dog sitting in his own hall. Otherwise, the top dog made the choice. The top dog assessed the man’s worth – his value to the top dog – and assigned his seat accordingly. The position of one’s seat was a measure of one’s worth: his virðing.⁴⁵

We discuss the concept of virðing in our book,Men of Terror.⁴⁶

People spoke about the virðing of others, meaning worth, but often translated as respect. The word was also used to mean one’s financial worth, often in the law codes, but as virðing relates to mindset, the word is taken to mean one’s worth to those around him. Virðing was given to a man by others based on his actions or inactions. It is frequently said in the literary sources that virðing was laid on someone, perhaps in the way a mantle or cloak was laid on a man’s shoulders, and often by a king or earl.⁴⁷ As with these other qualities, it was said to be better to die with virðing than to live with shame.⁴⁸

No doubt, other concepts played a role in the choice of one’s seating position, such as sæmd and drengskapr as explained in the discussion of virðing in our Men of Terror book. But what the top dog thought of a person – how he valued that person as a man, and the degree to which he respected that man – determined how he seated that person.

Generally, the closer one sat to the top dog, the higher his virðing. The top dog sat in the middle of the higher bench, with his team ordered by virðing spread out on either side sitting on the upper bench. The intriguing guest with the most virðing sat opposite the top dog in the middle of the lower bench, with his team spread out on either side sitting on the lower bench. Thus, home team and visiting team members could see each other and converse easily, while at the same time, side conversations could go on within each team.

The person in the öndvegi (middle seat on upper bench) was nearly always the top dog. The person in the annað öndvegi (middle seat on the lower bench) was nearly always a guest with special talents and characteristics.

The usual type of guest seated here was someone who was well-traveled or knowledgeable who could share news, information, and entertaining stories. Another type of guest seated here was someone who had gained his virðing by performing some heroic feat, or by being from a good family, or who gained respect in other ways.

It is not clear what happened when there were no guests in the house. While the literary sources have detailed descriptions of seating arrangements when guests were present, the arrangement with no guests in the hall is rarely, if ever, mentioned, presumably because it was not interesting to the saga author or his audience. One of the few examples in the literary sources tells us that slaves and freeborn men sat outward on the lower benches.⁴⁹ Perhaps when there were no guests, the top dog’s lower status men filled the lower bench.

Occasionally, there were too many guests to fit on the benches. In that case, temporary benches called forsæti (seats in front) were set up on the floor in front of the normal long benches.⁵⁰ The nature of these benches is unknown.

The lowest-status seats of all apparently were the corner seats, where the hornkerling (old woman in the corner) sat,⁵⁴ and in the hay off the ends of the bench, where the stafakarlar (cripples) sat.⁵⁵

To some degree, these seating positions may have also been based on comfort. The high-status seats near the fire were certainly brighter and warmer than the low-status seats at the end of the benches and by the door.

The literary sources tend to focus on the seating arrangements for men, while the seats for other household members are much less frequently called out. During yule and wedding feasts, it is often mentioned that women, such as the bride and her party, sat on the pallr, which here, may mean the cross bench, because the seating arrangement of the men on the bekkr is often described in detail.⁵⁶ Or, the use of the word pallr may be an anachronistic element added by the saga author. In some cases, the queen sat on the high seat.⁵⁷ On rare occasions, other women were placed in the high seat,⁵⁸ including high status women, such as a völva (seeress).⁵⁹

Sometimes children who were guests were given seats on the bench, and even on the high seat.⁶⁰ In at least in some cases, the seat was given as a sign of respect for their heroic deeds.⁶¹ More typically, when children are mentioned in the literary sources, they are playing or sitting on the floor.⁶²

The place of elderly or crippled people varied, depending on the nature of the individual. Important or unique people who were thought to be worthy of respect had seats of high status, including in the öndvegi, despite their advanced age.⁶³ More typically, elderly and crippled sat in low status locations, such as further out on the lower bench,⁶⁴ or even off the bench in the straw with the other cripples.⁶⁵

The dynamics of seating

The verse from Hávamál quoted at the start of this article asks the question: where does a new guest get seated? The answer is that his place was chosen by the top dog based on the guest's virðing. If the guest was unknown, a seat might be offered based on his reputation and family. If there was little information, a guest might be placed far outward on the lower bench.⁶⁶ Or, guests might be tested before a seat was offered. Þórr and his companions were tested with physical competitions before being offered a seat by Útgarða-Loki,⁶⁷ and even Óðinn battled in a contest of wits in order to win a seat as a guest of Vafþrúðnir.⁶⁸

When the newcomer took his seat, it seems that everyone on the bench moved outward one place.⁶⁹ Little is said in the literary sources about what might happen to the people already sitting at the ends of the bench, should there not be enough room for everyone.

A guest’s seat might be changed during his visit, again, based on the top dog’s reassessment of the guest’s virðing. When new information about a guest and his accomplishments came to light, he might be moved to a higher status seat.⁷⁰ Sometimes the guest performed a heroic feat during his visit, resulting in a move to a higher status seat.⁷¹

A guest might not care for the seat given him, believing it didn’t reflect his true worth.⁷² A man displaced to a lower status seat might use violence or the threat of violence against the newcomer to reclaim his higher status seat.⁷³ And in several instances in one story, the top dog at the house told his guest to chose any seat he wanted if he thought he could pull the man currently sitting there out of the seat.⁷⁴

Conclusions

A Viking had to earn his place in Viking society ceaselessly. It was not a world of entitlement. Each individual was assigned virðing – a worth – and that worth was constantly being assessed and challenged.

It was a hierarchical society, and a man’s place in that society was not just based on his class and his family, but even more strongly on the virðing awarded to the man for his accomplishments. To our modern eyes, it might seem ruthless, this relentless struggle to prove one’s worth and to maintain one’s place in society.

At the same time, the top dog yearned for knowledge, just like Óðinn himself. As a result, a guest needed to be knowledgeable, well-traveled, and articulate to win the virðing of the top dog. These qualities are implied in the literary sources and spelled out in Hávamál.⁷⁶ Intellectual stimulation was prized among Vikings and rewarded with a high-status seat.

The seating arrangements in Viking-age houses show us that their society was nothing like the egalitarian Arthurian round table seating seen in other societies. A Viking-age man fought for virðing at every turn, even for something as innocuous as finding a seat.

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Endnotes